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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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Our Great Benefactors 



MEN AND WOMEN MOST EMINENT IN LITERATURE, 
SCIENCE, PHILANTHROPY, ART, ETC. 



"NOT FOR AN AGE, BUT FOR ALL TIME" 



EDITED BY / 

SAMUEL ADAMS DRAKE 

AUTHOR OF "NEW ENGLAND LEGENDS AND FOLK LORE," " NOOKS AND CORNERS OF THE 

NEW ENGLAND COAST," " OLD LANDMARKS AND HISTORIC PERSONAGES OF BOSTON," 

"OLD LANDMARKS AND HISTORIC FIELDS OF MIDDLESEX." 






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BOSTON 
ROBERTS BROTHERS 




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THE LIBRARY 
OF CONGRE88 

WASHINGTON 



Copyright, 1884, 
By Roberts Brothers. 



Etrubcrsiln JJrtss : 
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 



PREFACE. 



^"pO bring within the limits of a modest volume an 
abstract and brief chronicle of the world's progress 
since the introduction of the art of printing, has been 
the controlling motive in the production of " Our Great 
Benefactors." While in no sense is it considered ex- 
haustive of the subject, the privilege of selection has 
been used in as discriminative a manner as seemed 
needful to this general survey, and to the distinct purpose 
also of embodying within the several groups of eminent 
personages contributing to it such only as have an un- 
disputed claim to be classed for all time among the 
benefactors of the race. This design has eliminated 
from the work all strictly military heroes or persons 
of merely local renown. 

The biographical articles are the joint production of 
many writers, who have aimed to tell briefly, clearly, and 
fairly what has been achieved for mankind by the indi- 
vidual benefactor, the scope or limitations of his mind or 
work, his habits of thought or training, or the specific 
causes leading up to the result accomplished. These 



IV PREFACE. 

elements, rather than the imparting of mere encyclopae- 
dic information, have been kept in view by the several 
contributors. An epitome of the world's work being 
thus presented, it is hoped that the plan, no less than 
the treatment, of " Our Great Benefactors " may find 
favor with the public. 



THE EDITOR. 

Melrose, Mass., 1884. 



BIOGRAPHIES WITH PORTRAITS. 



LITERATURE AND ART. 



Geoffrey Chaucer . 
. Buchanan . 
WrLLIAM Shakspeare 
John Milton . 

John Bunyan 
Bishop Gilbert Bu 
Joseph Addison. 
Samuel Johnson 
Thomas Gra.y 
Adam Smith . . 
OLrvER Goldsmith 

WlLLLAM CoWPER 

Hannah More . 
Maria Edgeworth 
Walter Scott . 
Robert Southey 
Charles Lamb . 
Thomas Campbell 
Mrs. Jameson . 
Thomas Hood . 
Charles Dickens 
Robert Burns 
Nathaniel Hawthorne 
Henry W. Longfellow- 
Harriet Beecher Stowe 
William Canton . . . 
Sir Christopher Wren- 
George Frederick Handel 
William Hogarth 
Josiah Wedgwood 
Tohn Flaxman . . 



Date 

Born 
Born 
Born 
Bom 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Bom 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 
Born 



of bin 
i gal 

1564; 

160S; 

I : 

1643; 

16725 

:-; 

1716; 

--■ 
1728J 

I73i; 
1/45; 
1767; 

:--_: 

I - - 5 : 

1777; 

1794; 

17995 

1S12; 

I759; 

1S04; 

1S07; 

I8l2 

about 

1632; 

1685; 

- - 

1730: 

1755; 



h uncertain ; died 1400 

iied 158a 

died 1616 

died 1674 

38 

died 1715 

died 
died 
.v.e.i 
died 
died 



""• - 
784 
--: 
79° 
774 



died 1S00 61 

died 1S33 66 

died 1S49 69 

died 1S32 74 

died 1S43 -5 

died 1S34 Si 

died 1S44 $7 

died 1S60 . . , 92 

died 1S45 99 

died 1S70 102 

died 1796 in 

died 1S64 116 

died 1SS2 125 

I 3 I 

1412; died 1492 137 

died 1723 142 

fied 1759 149 

died 1764 15- 

died 1795 162 

died 1S26 165 



BIOGRAPHIES WITH PORTRAITS. 



DISCOVERY AND EXPLORATION. 



Christopher Columbus .... Born about 1435 ; died 

Walter Raleigh Born 1552 ; died 1618 

Captain James Cook Born 1728; died 1779 

Sir John Franklin Born 1786; died 1847 

Daniel Boone Born 1735; died 1820 

David Livingstone Bom 1815 ; died 1873 



PAGE 

175 
182 
I85 
189 

195 
201 



PHILANTHROPY. 



John Howard Born 1726; 

Philippe Pinel Born 1745 ; 

Elizabeth Fry Born 1780; 

Bishop Ken Born 1637 ; 

Reginald Heber Born 1783; 

William Penn Born 1644; 

Sir Samuel Romilly Born 1757; 

Samuel Whitbread Born 1758; 

William Wilberforce .... Born 1759 : 

William Lloyd Garrison . . . Born 1804 ; 

Abraham Lincoln Born 1809; 

Andrew Bell Born 1753 ; 

Joseph Lancaster Born 1778; 

Elihu Burritt BorniSio; 

Frederick Denison Maurice . . Born 1805 ; 

George Augustus Selwyn . . . Born 1809 ; 

Grace Darling Born 1816; 

Henry Havelock Born 1795; 

George Moore Born 1806; 

Theobald Mathew Born 1790; 



died 1790 209 

died 1826 211 

died 1845 2l & 

died 1710 222 

died 1826 ...... 227 

died 1718 233 

died 1818 241 

died 1815 247 

died 1833 252 

died 1879 255 

died 1S65 267 

died 1832 274 

died 1838 280 

died 1S79 286 

died i860 289 

died 1878 295 

died 1842 299 

died 1857 304 

died 1S76 310 

died 1856 315 



PHILOSOPHY AND PATRIOTISM. 



Sir Isaac Newton Born 1642; died 1727 . . 

Roger Bacon Born 1214; died about 1292 

John Locke Born 1632; died 1704 . . 

Benjamin Franklin Born 1706; died 1790 . . 

Sir Thomas More Born 1478; beheaded 1535 

Sir Philip Sidney Born 1554; died 15S6 . . 

John Hampden Born 1594; died 1643 . . 

Lord William Russell .... B01111641; died 16S3 . . 

George Washington Born 1732; died 1799 . . 



323 
3^8 
333 
339 
340 
35° 
35<3 
361 
366 



BIOGRAPHIES WITH PORTRAITS. 



SCIENCE AND INVENTION. 

PAGE 

Dr. William Harvey Born 157S ; died 1657 ...... 377 

Linnaeus Born 1707; died 1778 381 

Baron Humboldt Born 1769; died 1859 . 390 

John Smeaton Born 1724; died 1792 396 

Sir Richard Arkwright . . . Born 1732 ; died 1792 401 

Eli Whitney Born 1765; died 1825 404 

James Watt Born 1736; died 1819 408 

Robert Fulton Born 1765 ; died 18 15 412 

George Stephenson Born 1781 ; died 1S48 416 

Henry Greathead Born 1757 ; died 1S13 421 

Sir Humphry Davy Born 1778 ; died 1829 427 

Michael Faraday Born 1791 ; died 1867 430 

Sir David Brewster Born 1781 ; died 1868 437 

Sir Rowland Hill Born 1795; died 1879 441 

Sir Charles Lyell Born 1797 ; died 1875 • 447 

Hugh Miller Born 1802; died 1856 ...... 452 

Sir Charles Wheatstone . . . Born 1802 ; died 1875 458 

Samuel F. B. Morse Born 1791 ; died 1872 462 

Thomas Alva Edison .... Born 1847 466 

Elias Howe Born 1819; died 1867 475 

Cyrus Hall McCormick . . . Born 1B09 ; died 18S4 ...... 480 

L. J. M. Daguerre Born 1789; died 1851 489 

William T. G. Morton .... Born 1819 ; died 1868 493 

Alexander Graham Bell , 501 



LITERATURE AND ART. 




GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 



OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 

[Date of birth uncertain. Died Oct. 25, 1400.] 

A S capricious in its dealings with genius as Dame Fortune 
-^*- herself could be, chronology, that can give the year in 
which still older poets came into the world, is perplexed as to 
the date of birth of Geoffrey Chaucer. That he died in the 
year 1400, and was laid in the Abbey of Westminster — a then 
unfinished sepulchre, begun two or three centuries previous — 
are facts duly written in the chronicles of the Plantagenets. 
Whether, however, the first of the heads that, when the poetic 
frenzy was at length out of them, have found a cold pillow in our 
national cemetery was whitened with the snows of threescore 
years and ten, or was that of a man hardly yet entered upon 
old age, is a riddle for which the researches of antiquaries have 
provided no assured solution. 

The earliest record concerning the poet that history has had 
the fortune to preserve shows him a page in the household of the 
Lady Elizabeth, wife to Lionel, son of Edward III. Crecy and 
Poitiers were then household words in rejoicing England ; and 
Chaucer, as anxious as his contemporaries to make acquaintance 
with lance and arrow, the ancient, and gunpowder, that newly 
invented means of murder, commenced his quest for " the bub- 
ble reputation," — not, as might have been expected, in the 
realms of the Muses, but in the realm of France. The year 1359 
found him soldiering there, and late in that same year he was 
taken prisoner, to be ransomed next spring for the sum of £20. 



4 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

We then lose sight of him for a considerable period, and when 
he once more comes forth into the light of history it is to marry 
a lady of the chamber to the queen, Philippa by name, and sister 
to the wife of that famous John of Gaunt who, though himself 
no king, was, like Banquo, the ancestor of kings. Duke John 
ranked thenceforth as the patron and protector of Chaucer, and 
with his aid the poet climbed sturdily up the ladder of life, though 
meeting now and then with awkward falls. He was included in 
a kind of commercial embassy that visited Italy, obtained more 
than one pension, and in 1377 went on a secret mission to France 
to seek the hand of a French princess for that Prince of Wales 
who, as Richard II., was destined to deposition and a tragic 
death. 

The year 1386 saw Chaucer returned to Parliament as one of 
the knights of the shire for the county of Kent. At this period 
the sun of prosperity shone most graciously upon him. He 
enjoyed several pensions, and, more fortunate in the fourteenth 
century than Burns in the eighteenth, was permitted to discharge 
by deputy the excise business appertaining to his appointment 
of Comptroller of Customs. All at once good fortune abandoned 
him. John of Gaunt, " time-honored Lancaster," was tripped 
up in the race of ambition by the Duke of Gloucester, and in his 
fall Chaucer fell also. Pensions and places took to themselves 
wings ; and to fill up the measure of the poet's afflictions, his wife 
died at this time, and he was left alone and poor to endure the 
buffets of Fortune. The return of the Lancastrian party to power 
brought back a few gleams of his former prosperity, but for several 
years his purse was oftener empty than full. In a poem addressed 
to it he complains grievously of its lightness, and describes him- 
self as threatened with absolute want. John of Gaunt, oppressed 
with age and sorrows, had at length taken refuge in death from 
the tyranny and ingratitude of kings; but in 1399 the usurpa- 
tion of the throne by his son, Henry Bolingbroke, put a period to 
the distresses of Chaucer. His empty exchequer replenished 
with fresh pensions, the poet set about providing a retreat for his 
old age, and leased a tenement in the garden of St. Mary's Chapel, 
Westminster, for the long term of fifty-three years. Death did 



GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 5 

not permit him to inhabit it a single twelvemonth. It was in 
December, 1399, that Geoffrey Chaucer covenanted for this 
lease, and one of the last days of the following October beheld 
a grave opened in the Abbey of Westminster, while monkish 
voices implored repose for the soul of the first poet whose 
bones were laid to rest in a shrine now so well stored with 
the dust of literary monarchs. 

In standing by the grave of Chaucer, it is impossible to think 
of the lips that centuries ago mouldered into dust beneath those 
stones as having, in the fashion of so many modern poets, sighed 
forth with the last breath left to them a petition for eternal sleep. 
Some thirty centuries since, an Idumean patriarch, in a poetical 
lamentation of the utmost sacredness and sublimity, cursed the 
day wherein he was born ; and crying to his Maker, " Oh, that 
thou wouldest hide me in the grave ! " spoke of that dark and 
silent refuge as made delightful to him by the thought that 
" there the wicked cease from troubling, and there the weary are 
at rest." For nearly a hundred years past, English poetry has 
taken to itself something of the melancholy of Job. 

" The fear that kills, 
And hope that is unwilling to be fed, 1 ' 

are the portion of our nineteenth-century singers ; and the harp 
of each is little better than a single-stringed lyre that, when 
struck, sends forth the unchanging complaint, " Vanitas vani- 
tatum." The sweetest songs of the present generation speak 
very sadly of life and of the age that gave them birth. 

Far otherwise was it with the genius of Chaucer. Perfect 
health, both of mind and body, seems to have been the happy 
gift that Fortune from his youth bestowed upon him. The pains 
of life, although he reaped that plentiful harvest of them which 
from time immemorial has been looked upon as a kind of poetic 
right divine, were endured by him without any expression, 
whether in rhyme or blank verse, of a desire to take refuge in 
the grave; and he enjoyed in the heartiest fashion such sea- 
sons of prosperity as his changeful career allotted to him. He 
was the most catholic-spirited of geniuses, a lover both of the 



6 OUR GREAT BEIMEFACTORS. 

country and of the town, and by turns soldier, scholar, and man 
of business. No poet ever dwelt more fondly on the charm of 
a summer morning as exhibited in field and wood, yet no Lon- 
doner had a keener appreciation of town comforts or more relish 
for the pleasures of society. When the festival of May-day 
turned half England into the greenwood to imitate for a day the 
forest life of Robin Hood and Marian, Chaucer took holiday with 
the rest, and flinging aside his manuscripts would escape into 
the company of tree and flower, to be saluted with the blithe 
welcome of the lark, and to describe, with the glee of a poet 
who had left his bed before the sun, how 

" Fiery Phoebus riseth up so bright 
That all the Orient iaugheth at the sight." 

When winter had made an out-of-door life cheerless, Chaucer 
abandoned it, and turned with equal contentment to fireside 
jest and Christmas revel. The most sociable of mankind, he 
loved dearly to see his own good nature reflected in the faces 
of others ; and the feelings with which he regarded the grave 
are admirably expressed in his complaint that there a man must 
keep house 

" Alone — withouten any compagnie." 

In the case of Chaucer himself this lament has proved un- 
founded. The company of authors that have joined him in 
Westminster Abbey are almost as many as the old building can 
contain. He lies there, — a king surrounded by his court. 
Bearing in mind that neither Shakspeare, Milton, nor the great- 
est of more modern geniuses has a grave in this national ceme- 
tery, it must be pronounced that there is not among the dead 
of Westminster a poet worthy to rank as the equal of him who, 
aided by no other magic than that of mind, half created the 
English language. Before the time of Chaucer that noble 
language, now the fitting drapery of conceptions bright as the 
Shining Ones of Bunyan, was little better than the chaotic wreck 
of Anglo-Saxon forms of speech, — a barbarous jargon, despised 
of grammarians and rejected by the learned and the nobly born. 
Chaucer took in hand this rude dialect, the speech of peasant 











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GEORGE BUCHANAN. 



GEORGE BUCHANAN. 7 

and yeoman, and from the day when he had succeeded in prov- 
ing that it might be " married to immortal verse, " the attention 
of the educated few was directed no longer to its uncouth rug- 
gedness but to its inborn energy and majesty. His " well of 
English undefiled," as Spenser nobly termed it, is the source 
from which has issued the river of our literature, — that ma- 
jestic current which has not yet ceased to widen as it rolls 
onward towards the ocean of Eternity. 



GEORGE BUCHANAN. 

[Born 1506 Died 1582] 

TN writing the lives of remarkable men, a question of no little 
-*- importance arises at the very threshold : What constitutes 
success in life? For it is the successful man who is held up to 
an admiring world as the pattern for all the rest. Several biog- 
raphies of recent date, written more especially for the young, 
seem to assume that a faculty for making money is the meaning 
of success. And there is a common observation in ordinary 
life which exactly tallies with this assumption. It is said of the 
man who has failed in acquiring wealth, that he is an unsuccess- 
ful man, or that he is a failure. But such a conclusion is clearly 
illogical; for a man, though the poorest of the poor ; may still 
be a successful man as regards something else which is not 
money. He is successful if he attain the object of his best 
efforts, no matter what the object may be. To be truly suc- 
cessful, what a man gains by his best efforts must be worth the 
gaining, — must make him really better by its acquisition, and 
must leave him capable of its enjoyment after it is acquired. 
And this is true not only of money but of all other objects of 
pursuit. So that, in fact, the world has produced very few that 
can be called thoroughly successful men. Some of the noblest 
of mankind have been exceedingly poor; for the unworldly- 



8 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

minded neglect the means of money-making, or cannot com- 
prehend its rules. Money-making is an art or handicraft in 
which the apprentice must work patiently and laboriously, as in 
other arts, before he can become proficient. The millionnaire is 
the profound and accomplished artist in money. His success is 
the measure of the application of those rules and maxims which 
constitute the method of his art. In relating the memoirs of the 
men who come within the category of the world's benefactors, 
the instances of the millionnaire are rather exceptional than 
otherwise. And when they come within the list, they come 
not on the merit of their wealth, but of their excellent bestowal 
of it. The benefactors are the dispensers, not the acquirers, — 
the men who add to the world's benefit, whether they increase 
their own or not. The illustrious scholar and poet whose career 
has suggested these reflections, which might however have 
arisen just as naturally out of the career of any truly unselfish 
worker for the world's good, is an instance of the capability of 
a man to be a true benefactor to others, and yet himself be 
frequently in want of the common necessaries of life. 

George Buchanan, the greatest of modern Latinists, and the 
uncompromising denouncer of the political and religious errors 
of his own time, was born in 1506, at Killearne, in Stirlingshire, 
Scotland, in great poverty. At the time of his birth his mother 
was a widow, with eight other children. She must therefore 
have been somewhat in the position of the worried old lady in 
the fairy tale, and the children were probably not unaccustomed 
to the same homely fare of whippings and broth, for those were 
the days of sound whippings, both in school and at home. It 
seems that an uncle took notice of George at an early age, be- 
cause of the lad's abilities. At fourteen he was sent to Paris, 
then the most noted university in Europe, to continue and com- 
plete his education. Here he continued for two years, at the 
end of which time his uncle died, and he had to return home. 
Being without resources, he enlisted as a soldier in the Duke of 
Albany's French troop, but his health broke down under the 
severe strain and fatigue of this harassing service, and he once 
more found means to reach Paris and resume his studies. And 



GEORGE BUCHANAN. 9 

now for several years he struggled hard against poverty and 
misery. At length we find him engaged, after taking his Mas- 
ter's degree, as private tutor to the young Earl of Cassilis, with 
whom he went back to Scotland, and from whose service he was 
very shortly transferred to that of the King himself. James V. 
made him preceptor to his natural son, the Earl of Murray, and 
in this capacity Buchanan commenced a friendship with the 
chivalrous young prince which lasted until Murray's untimely 
death. His roving disposition, however, led him to other scenes. 
Deeply imbued with the spirit of the Reformed Faith, which 
was then struggling to obtain acceptance in France, he struck 
upon the idea of attacking the monastic orders, and particularly 
the Franciscans, with whom in Paris he had come frequently 
into collision. This he did in a poem called the " Somnium." 
The King, who had as great an aversion to the Cordeliers as 
Buchanan himself, urged a renewed attack, and the poet was 
not loath to repeat his flagellation. The new poem, called " Fran- 
ciscanus," unfortunately for its too witty author, became exceed- 
ingly popular. It was translated into French as " Le Cordelier 
de Buchanan," and was often reprinted. 1 This terrible mona- 
cJiomastix brought down on Buchanan all the monastic orders of 
Christendom. So violent was the storm, that even the King 
could not shelter the poet from its fury. The monks got hold 
of his person, and with very little attempt at the formality of a 
trial secured him, as they thought, tightly in prison. But some- 
how or other he escaped and fled to London. London speedily 
in turn became too hot for him, for Henry VIII. burned both 
Papists and Lutherans, according to his mood. The Reforma- 
tion method of the " Defender of the Faith," though unique and 
conclusive, did not suit Buchanan, so he passed over once more 
to Paris ; and " out of the frying-pan into the fire," according to 
a vulgar proverb much more understandable in those days than 
in the present, for there he came across Cardinal Beatoun, one 
of his most implacable enemies. The horrible fate of poor 
Helen Stark and the Perth tradesmen was proof of Beatoun's 
capabilities as an inquisitor. Again he passed on ; this time to 
1 The first edition is that of Sedan, 1599, 8vo. 



10 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Bordeaux. In Bordeaux we find him spoken of as the second 
regent of the College de Bourbon, his two colleagues being 
the famous Antony Muretus as first, and Adrian Turnebus as 
third. These three famous Latinists are placed side by side 
by Montaigne as the greatest poets of the time. With Beza 
and L'Hopital they claim a front rank ki scholarship, but 
more especially in versification. Posterity, however, has per- 
mitted Buchanan to distance all his gifted competitors. He is 
now universally allowed to be facile princeps of modern Latin 
poets, both for the purity of his style and the harmony of his 
versification. 

The next scene in his eventful life is laid in Portugal, at 
Coimbra, three or four years later. Once more coming to 
grief through the monks, who confined him in a monastery, 
he solaced himself with composing his beautiful Latin para- 
phrase of the Psalms. On his release he returned to England. 
The next few years he spent between France and Scotland, part 
of the time as tutor to the son of the Marshal de Brissac. In 
1560 he publicly professed the Reformed religion, and was made 
principal of the College of St. Leonard. With his active and 
restless disposition he could not remain quietly as a mere col- 
lege professor. He threw himself vigorously into the political 
movements of the time ; and in the troubles then agitating his 
native Scotland he sided hotly with the enemies of the Queen. 
This must have been from religious conviction ; for Mary had 
shown him very decided marks of her favor, even suggesting 
the appointment of tutor to her son. In 1570 Murray, to whom 
he was greatly attached, was assassinated, and Buchanan gave up 
his principalship to receive from the Government the appoint- 
ment of tutor to James VI. Many are the stories told of this 
portion of his life. Among others, it is said that, in consider- 
ation of the young prince's rank, and in tender regard for the 
royal person, a lad of his own age was appointed, at a fixed 
salary, to receive all the whippings he incurred as a school-boy. 
And the stern preceptor insisted on their being rigidly enforced 
in the presence of James, to impress his mind with the serious- 
ness of his misdeeds. If the proxy at times howled to order, no 



GEORGE BUCHANAN. II 

doubt he got plenty to howl for, as there was very little make- 
believe about Buchanan. 

From Queen Elizabeth our hard-working Reformer received 
a pension of £100, which was a good help towards the History 
of Scotland he was then engaged upon. This valuable work, 
" Rerum Scotiarum Historia," apart from its facts, is a pattern 
of style. Of course, as a modern Latinist, the writer is by no 
means a second Livy; but he made Livy his model, and thus 
not only rendered his history readable, but placed it in the front 
rank of books of its class. 

He also wrote a pamphlet against Mary, translated and pub- 
lished at Edinburgh, and called " A Detection of the Doings of 
Mary," etc. This was his latest work, for in September of the 
year in which it was published he died. His last request was to 
his servant to know how much money was left in the house, and 
on learning that it was not sufficient to bury him, he ordered it 
to be given to the poor. The people of Edinburgh honored his 
remains with a public funeral as a benefactor to his country. 

Various opinions have been given of Buchanan's public char- 
acter, according to the interpretations put upon his conduct to 
Mary Queen of Scots, who undoubtedly had been his benefac- 
tress ; but his poverty seems a sufficient answer to those who 
say that his denunciations were uttered for pay from England, 
and that Elizabeth's pension would account for his ingratitude 
to Mary. Besides, he was not a man to do things by halves, — 
he was not mealy-mouthed in expressing his opinions, and he 
held opinions opposed to monasticism, and, in short, to Roman- 
ism, at the very time that Mary sought to confer favors upon 
him. It might be said, therefore, that it was rather Mary who 
wished to bribe him to reconciliation with her policy, or at least 
to keep him silent respecting it. However that may be, he did 
good and substantial service to the Faith of Scotland, not only 
by his partisanship but with his pen. Both the " History" and 
the "Paraphrase" remain monuments of his genius and learning, 
and lasting ornaments to the literature of his country. 



12 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 

[Born 1564. Died 161 6.] 

HHHE three hundred and fifteenth anniversary of the birth 
■*■ of Shakspeare was celebrated at Stratford-on-Avon on 
Wednesday the 23d of April, 1879, by the opening of a new 
Memorial Theatre, and on the three following days by a series 
of dramatic and musical performances given therein. 

This new Memorial Theatre, a compact, picturesque little 
building, excellently adapted to the occasional purposes for 
which it is intended, is the result of one of those movements, 
national, in their representative character but straitly limited as 
to the number taking part in them, which have been set on foot 
from time to time by select sections among the poet's countless 
admirers who have not cared to abide under the censure which 
he has himself pronounced upon 

" Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie 
Without a monument." 

One of these movements led some years ago to the purchase of 
the house in Henley Street in which Shakspeare is supposed to 
have been born, together with that next it and the garden ground 
attached to both. Another led to the restoration of the build- 
ings, the formation of a museum of Shakspeare relics in their 
principal rooms, and the planting of the garden with the local 
flowers, shrubs, and herbs mentioned in the poet's works. Later 
on, about the period of the great tercentenary celebration in 
1864, New Place, the residence in which Shakspeare passed 
the last few years of his life, was purchased and restored. And 
now we have this new theatre, which it is hoped may have 
the effect of adding yet more to the memorials of the poet in 
his native town by attracting thither in future larger numbers 




WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 



WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 1 3 

of visitors on the occasion of the annual celebrations of his 
birthday. 

There can be no more fitting place for memorials of Shak- 
speare than the quaint old town nestling in the heart of rural 
Warwickshire which gave him birth. It was there that he grew 
up from youth to manhood in the midst of nature's handiwork, 
finding " tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, ser- 
mons in stones, and good in everything; " and, as we may see 
by letting his works fall open at random anywhere, these early 
associations never left him. Wherever he may have been or 
whatever his occupation, his fancy wandered back to the scenes 
of his youth, — to " the banks with peonied and twilled brims," 
the " daffodils that come before the summer dares and take the 
winds of March with beauty," the " violets dim but sweeter 
than the lids of Juno's eyes or Cytherea's breath," the " prim- 
roses that die unmarried before they can behold bright Phoebus 
in his strength," the "throstle with his note so true," the "white 
sheet bleaching on the hedge," the " rich leas and corn-fields," 
the " brimming river," and the " thick-pleached alleys in the 
orchards " of his native Stratford. 

In the genial spring and soft summer-time, indeed, the whole 
coflntry round about is redolent of Shakspeare. There you 
may still find the bank " whereon the wild thyme grows," and 
drink in the " sweet south as it breathes upon a bank of violets, 
stealing and giving odors." Harebells, kingcups, and pansies 
peep out from the greensward in many a cunning nook, where 
the loveliest of drooping foliage forms a natural arcade at the 
far end of whose dim vista the comely Oberon might well recline. 
There are the trees whereon the love-stricken Orlando hung his 
song-scrolls, and there the grove where the Duke and his " co- 
mates in exile " partook of their frugal banquet and sang their 
sylvan songs ; while far away beneath the antique oaks one can 
still faintly discern on the confines of the wood the cottage 
embowered in olives where Rosalind and Celia dwelt. Friar 
Lawrence may still cull his simples in the early dawn, while 
Proserpine lets fall spring flowers from Dis's wagon, and Ceres 
scatters her corn-seed over the fruitful land. 



14 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Rich, however, as Stratford is in reminiscences of the poet, it 
is not there alone that we must seek for the influences which 
served to form his mind and direct the course of his work. 
Shakspeare was in reality the product of an age of transi- 
tion and development, — the outcome and complement of one 
of those rare epochs which mark a new departure in the prog- 
ress of the race. Born in the midst of great deeds, he was led 
in, accompanied, and followed out by a procession of great 
men. All the old bases of European thought and action were 
being broken up. Printing had rendered knowledge common 
property; gunpowder had displaced personal valor as the final 
arbitrator among mankind ; astrology and alchemy were dis- 
appearing in the crucible of scientific research ; necromancy and 
witchcraft were flitting away before the dawn of enlightenment ; 
superstition was reluctantly yielding to reason her long empire 
over the human mind ; everywhere men were shaking off the 
spell wrought upon them by priestcraft, and, no longer dazzled 
by the chivalric splendors of the feudal system, were struggling 
for freedom of conscience and intellectual and political liberty. 

The great Reformation was already an accomplished fact. 
With a mighty torch lighted at the flame which had consumed 
the bones of Wickliffe and the living body of John Huss, Lutkcr 
had illuminated all Germany; and, catching something of the 
glare by reflection, Zwingli and Petri and Taussen had pro- 
jected it into the darkest corners of Switzerland on the one 
hand and the Scandinavian kingdoms on the other. Calvin 
had brought new breath to the blaze, which, under the influ- 
ence of Melancthon and Erasmus, had become almost univer- 
sal ; and, quitting the world in the same year that Shakspeare 
entered it, had left his unfinished work to Beza in France and 
Knox in Scotland. It was in vain that Rome furbished up 
her old weapons and forged new ones to aid her in the battle 
against enlightenment, — in vain that she instituted the Order of 
Jesus, reorganized the Inquisition, and set up the Index Expur- 
gatorius. The papal splendor had culminated in the pontificate 
of Leo X., and was now on the wane. Men, indeed, had begun 
o perceive that freedom of thought was the parent of enter- 



WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.. 15 

prise, and enterprise the parent of all high achievement ; and 
with the dawning of this knowledge upon the human mind the 
glory of Rome had departed. 

In Italy Tasso was singing the requiem of a royal line of poets 
which ran back through Ariosto, Dante, and Petrarch to the 
classic ages. Art, in its passage from the childhood of imita- 
tion into the manhood of creative power, had been stricken down 
by the Church to whose service it had been mainly devoted. 
Leonardo da Vinci was no more ; Raphael was no more ; death 
robbed the world of Michael Angelo a few weeks after Shak- 
speare had been born into it; Titian, an old man now, was 
resting, on his laurels ; Tintoretto, in his zenith, was bettering 
the instructions of his great master; Correggio had sunk into 
death beneath his money bags ; the Caracci were still at their 
primers. 

Spain, which had attained her highest point of greatness 
under Charles V., was now shrinking beneath the iron grasp 
of his son and successor, Philip II., already the widower of 
one English queen and now suitor for the hand of another. 
The New World, which in the name of Spain Columbus had 
discovered, Cortes had conquered, and Las Casas was trying to 
win, was slipping from her grasp. Her dominion in the West 
was passing over to England, together with her supremacy on 
the seas. Portugal, by a bloodless revolution, had re-established 
her independence. The Netherlands were being purified for 
freedom in the fiery persecutions of Alva. Spanish literature, 
at that time perhaps the richest in Europe, was destined to 
produce but two more great names and then die out. The one 
was Cervantes; the author of " Don Quixote," as yet a youth of 
seventeen ; the other, Lope de Vega, as yet in swaddling clothes. 
Camoens, the sweetest of all singers in Portuguese, was writing 
his " Lusiad " in the Indies. 

France had already produced some great men, and was hold- 
ing still greater in embryo. Francis II. was just dead. His 
young and fascinating widow, Mary Queen of Scots, was in- 
triguing for Holy Church and another husband. Catherine de 
Medicis ruled France in the name of Charles IX., with the assist- 



16 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

ance of L'Hopital, the Chancellor, and Montmorency, the Con- 
stable, — both great men embarrassed by office. The brothers 
Guise were riding through the land with havoc in their train, to 
familiarize men's minds with the untold horrors which were after- 
wards to find their culmination in the massacre of St. Bartholo- 
mew. Brave old Gaspard de Coligni and the valiant Conde 
were training the Huguenots in many a bloody fight for that 
great day when Henri de Navarre and the Due de Sully, both 
children now, should lead them on to victory at Ivry. Rabelais, 
after laughing away his full measure of threescore and ten years, 
had quitted life with an impious jest. Montaigne, in his merid- 
ian, was indolently blooming into fame. Marot, Saint-Gelais, and 
Ronsard had already let fall the first gentle droppings of French 
poetry; and Malherbe, the Chaucer of France, had been born at 
Caen nine years before Shakspeare saw the light at Stratford. 
Before he died Descartes had come into the world ; and Roche- 
foucauld, Corneille, La Fontaine, Boileau, Moliere, Racine, Fene- 
lon, Pascal, Malebranche, and Montesquieu had followed him. 

England had finally beaten off Rome, and taken her destinies 
into her own hands. Mary was dead, and Elizabeth had already 
reigned six years. The elder Cecil, wise, acute, far-seeing, had 
command of the helm; the state bark was manned by men of 
like mettle. In spite of the perilous vagaries of the love-smitten 
Queen, the nation was rising rapidly into power. Armed to the 
teeth, it was defying Spain and intimidating France. The foun- 
dations of its naval greatness were being laid. Hawkins was 
training Drake upon the Spanish main; the sea-dogs of the 
West were being let loose upon the ocean. Unheard-of enter- 
prises lay seething in the brain of the adventurous Raleigh, then 
a boy at school. The great middle class was just emerging 
into life to strengthen alike the thews and the mind of the nation, 
and thought was broadening throughout the land. Bacon, the 
father of experimental philosophy, was just out of the leading- 
strings of infancy. Sackville, afterwards Lord Buckhurst and 
Dorset, was writing the first lines of the " Mirror for Magis- 
trates." John Lyly, whose " Euphues " was destined to people 
society with a race of fops of the Don Adriano stamp, was as 



WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 1 7 

yet a boy of ten or eleven summers. Spenser and Sir Philip 
Sidney were still at school ; and a host of minor poets and 
dramatists, whose lustre has been dimmed by the great shadow 
of Shakspeare, were yet in their cradles. 

There were few books then. There were no newspapers. 
The stage, the only secular public teacher of the time, — the 
one source whence the masses drew their knowledge of history, 
their opinions on passing events, their ideas of society and 
morals, their canons of criticism, their principles of taste, 
and their politics, — was just being brought out of chaos into 
order. Udall's " Ralph Roister Doister," John Heywood's in- 
terludes and " Gammer Gurton's Needle," had paved the way 
for true comedy. Bayle's " King John " and Sackville and Nor- 
ton's " Gorboduc " had paved the way for true tragedy. All 
had done good service by driving out the old mystery plays. 
Marlowe, who had that " fine madness " which, as his contem- 
porary Drayton says, " rightly should possess a poet's mind," 
was just beginning to write. Robert Greene, who, though few 
give him credit for it, drew the first tender outlines so perfectly 
filled in by Shakspeare in his long procession of women, was a 
child of four. George Peele was just thinking about going to 
Oxford. Rare Ben Jonson was not destined to see the light for 
ten years to come. Quite a swarm of little dramatists were 
struggling to the front, to abuse the greater ones and then die 
out of remembrance. 

Still the " inexplicable dumb shows " and the allegorical 
abstractions of the old Mysteries clung to the drama with a 
tenacity with which none but a Shakspeare could grapple. 
Young as it was, moreover, the nascent institution was already 
growing ribald and licentious. " Judas, like a damned soul, in 
black paynted with flames of fire and with a fearful vizzard," 
continued to make his appearance according to stage direction. 
The Lord Mayor of London had found it necessary to order 
" that no play should be acted within the liberty of the City, 
wherein should be any words, examples, or doings of any un- 
chastity, sedition, or suchlike unfit or uncomely matter," under 
specified penalties of fine and imprisonment. 



1 8 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Of players there was as yet no licensed company. The Chil- 
dren of the Chapel Royal and the Children of the Revels were 
the only actors who performed before the Court, though there 
were many strollers like those in " Hamlet " and plenty of ama- 
teur companies, who, after the fashion of Bottom and his histri- 
onic associates, played at weddings and similar entertainments. 
As women had not yet made their appearance upon the stage, 
all feminine characters were enacted either by boys or young 
men. Any room, building, or outhouse served for a theatre. 
The scenery and other accessories of the drama were left to the 
spectators' imagination. The same stage appointments served 
through all the acts, and the only indication of a change of scene 
was the exhibition of a board inscribed with the name of the 
place supposed to be represented. 

Such, then, was Europe, such England, and such the English 
stage, when William Shakspeare, poet and dramatist, first saw 
the light, in 1564, at Stratford. Such, too, were some of the 
influences which helped to mould his mind, — some only; for 
the flowers and the foliage reflected in the Avon, as it wound its 
way amongst the orchards and cornfields of his birthplace, had 
no doubt much to do with the graceful drapery in which he 
was wont to clothe his wisdom. Born, too, in one of the oldest 
towns in the country, — a free town, whose traditions extended 
back to the dim days of the Heptarchy, whose charter dated 
from the splendid reign of Edward III., and one of whose citi- 
zens had attained the dignity of an archbishop when Rome 
was paramount in England, — the spirit of old times hovered 
over him, and may have helped to preserve him from the 
iconoclasm of an age given to idol-breaking. 

Of his parentage we know little. Of himself, of his journey 
through life, his avocations, his haunts, his associates, his strug- 
gles, his sorrows, and his joys, we know less. The exact date 
of his birth even is unknown, though it is certain that he came 
among us with the spring flowers, and was ushered into the 
world, so tp speak, by the music of the returning birds. That 
he spent much of his youth in the dreamy meadows and 
woodlands around his native town, there is no reason to doubt. 



WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 19 

Tradition says so, and his works confirm it. That he attended 
the quaint old grammar-school, and there obtained a smattering 
of book learning which to a mind like his became the high-road 
to something like scholarship, is equally certain. But of his 
youthful avocations after he had left school, and after his father, 
hitherto the prosperous glover and wool-stapler, elected chief 
alderman, and honored of his neighbors, had been overtaken 
by adversity, we know nothing. Tradition sends him down to 
us a glover, a wool-stapler, a butcher's apprentice, a school- 
master, an attorney's clerk. He may have been any one of 
these, or he may have been none. It is even open to doubt 
whether his parents ever occupied the house to which tradi- 
tion points as his birthplace, while the singling out of its best 
bedroom as that in which he was born is the merest matter of 
inference. Why the 23d of April has been fixed upon as the 
day of his birth there is no record to show. He was baptized 
on the 26th, which would hardly have been the case had he 
been born but three days before. The 23d being the day of 
his death and the feast of England's patron saint as well, may 
perhaps account for the invention of a coincidence which in all 
probability did not exist in fact. 

Obscure, however, as is everything relating to the outer life 
of the poet during these early years, we may gather something 
from his works touching the activities of his inner life. For it 
was then, no doubt, that he was conning over his first lessons in 
the wide-open book of nature, and crowding his imagination 
with imagery drawn from the scenery around him. It was then 
that he fabled the cowslips to be Titania's pensioners dressed 
out in their speckled coats of ruby and gold, and then that 
he discovered the dewdrops to be pearls hung in " the pretty 
flow'ret's eyes " by fairies in the night-time. It was then that 
he saw the elves of the woodland "cropping" night tapers 
from the waxen thighs of honey-bees, and " lighting them at the 
fiery glow-worm's eyes;" then that he saw the moon behold-, 
ing her "silver visage" in the "watery glass," and bathing 
every blade and flower in " liquid pearl," — the whole " floor of 
heaven," the while, being " thick inlaid with patines of bright 



20 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

gold." It was then, too, — in "winter's tedious nights," while 
" the wasted brands were glowing," and while " the scritch-owl 
scritching loud " was putting him in mind of shrouds and of 
ghosts gliding from the churchyard, — that he drew up closer 
to the fire with " good old folks," to hear their tales of " woful 
ages long ago betid," and to garner up that rich store of folk- 
lore with which in after life he painted in the shadows of his 
finest pictures. And it was then, no doubt, that in his after 
dreams he saw Queen Mab in her fairy coach, Puck at his rev- 
els, and the ethereal Titania with her wondrous little serving- 
men ministering to the wants of " translated " " Bully Bottom." 
It was a happy circumstance that Shakspeare should thus 
have spent that portion of life which is most impressionable 
amongst the rural scenes of Stratford, not alone because it en- 
abled him to enrich his fancy with the fairest charms of nature, 
but because it gave him the means of teaching a deeper love 
of all God's works, and helped to develop in him that placid, 
world-wide sympathy with all conditions of men and living 
creatures which was one of his most striking characteristics. 
It enabled him in an age of class distinctions far more sharply 
accentuated than our own, to draw even the despised rustic with 
a kindly hand. And when the notes of his hunting-horns are 
ringing through the morning air most cheerily, and the " music 
of his hounds" is loudest, he charitably drops behind either to 
bestow a word of pity upon the " purblind hare," who " outruns 
the wind to overshoot his troubles," or to moralize upon the 
" poor sequestered stag that came to languish." He upbraids 
" that most ungentle gull the cuckoo's bird" for the unkindly 
way in which it " useth the sparrow;" and, in the fervent long- 
ing for new-mown hay with which he endows Bottom after his 
transformation, enters into the humble enjoyments of that most 
patient of all beasts of burden, the ass. His contact with Na- 
ture, indeed, seems to have impregnated him with a passionate 
love of all her works, irrespective of their outward seemings. 
He not only describes them with affectionate minuteness, but 
handles them as tenderly as if they were some delicate creation 
of his own. " As the sun breaks through the darkest clouds," he 



WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 21 

says, " so honor peereth in the meanest habit." " What ! " he 
asks again, " is the jay more precious than the lark because 
his feathers are more beautiful? or is the adder better than the 
eel because his painted skin contents the eye?" And so all 
through his life we find him singing of " gilded newts " and 
" gray-coated gnats," of " heavy-gaited toads " and " spotted 
snakes," of " spinners' legs " and " spiders' webs," of crickets, 
crows, wrens, and finches, as lovingly as he sings of the most 
beautiful of God's creatures. He knows no prejudice in favor 
of the one or the other ; they were all made by the same hand, 
and they are all good in their place. 

But necessary as all this training was, it w.as not sufficient to 
fit him for the work he had to do. And so, when time was 
ripe, — after he had married a wife, had had children, and had 
tasted of those domestic joys and sorrows to which he so often 
and touchingly refers, — he was driven out into the wide world 
at the age of one or two and twenty, to mingle in that stern 
strife of life of which he had hitherto known comparatively little. 
That his exile was compulsory rather than voluntary, there is 
little reason to doubt. Not only is the deer-stealing tradition 
too well corroborated by unmistakable allusions to the youthful 
frolic — and in those days it was a frolic — in two of his plays, 
but it is also extremely unlikely that a man of his " measureless 
content," and one so careless of fame withal, should have left 
his home and all his friends to become a wanderer from choice. 
Whatever the cause, however, an exile he became, and for a 
period of seven or eight years we lose all trace of him. 

At the end of that time he comes to the surface again in Lon- 
don in a manner very significant. " There is an upstart crow," 
writes Robert Greene, one of the lesser dramatists of the day, 
to whom reference has already been made, " beautified with our 
feathers, and with his tygre's head wrapped in a player's hide," 
— an evident parody on a line in " Henry VI." — " supposes he 
is as well able to bombast out a blanke verse as the best of 
you ; and, being an absolute Johannes Factotum, is, in his own 
conceyte, the only Shakes scene in a countrey." From which 
malicious passage it may be gathered that our poet had already 



22 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

attained some degree of popularity as a playwright, if not as an 
actor. As to what impelled him to turn his attention to the 
stage, — whether stern necessity drove him thither, or whether 
the moving cause was natural inclination, pricked on by the 
experiences of that high day when his father, as bailiff of Strat- 
ford, licensed the Queen's Players to play there, "payed" 
them " xi 1." for their services, and " proveysyoned " them to 
the magnificent extent of " iij s. vj p." — no one knows. And 
posterity is left equally in the dark as to the manner in which 
he was first introduced into the theatrical fraternity of the 
metropolis. 

Once there, however, there was plenty of scope for his talent. 
The stage had become the institution of the day. The food 
with which it supplied the eager appetite of its patrons was not 
of a very satisfying kind. No less than seventeen playhouses 
had either been erected or extemporized out of the old inn yards 
within the preceding ten years. The dramatists of the day, 
though numerous and very fecund, were, with the exception of 
Marlowe, Greene, and Peele, the merest poetasters. When, 
therefore, our poet was once able to place his thoughts, instinct 
with life and beauty as they were, before the thousands, of 
London who crowded the theatres from " three of the afternoon 
till sunset," — and, " lest it might hurt the morals of the young," 
no stage play was allowed to be acted after dark, — we may be 
sure that he had plunged into that " tide which, taken at the 
flood, leads on to fortune." For though the sturdy old citizens 
of London were but ill- fitted out with book learning, their con- 
stant contact with the drama had doubtless bred in them an un- 
erring judgment as to the intrinsic worth of what was acted out 
before them. And in the new candidate for their favors they 
saw what they had never seen before, — a true poet, whose 
plastic mind had not only moulded to its purpose the surpassing 
loveliness of the scenes in the midst of which it had expanded 
into strength, but had also, partly by intuition, partly by com- 
munion with the past, and partly by actual contact, seized upon 
and appropriated the spirit of the eminently vigorous age upon 
which it had been its hap to fall. 



WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 23 

Wherever Shakspeare had spent his days, or whatever had 
been his occupation during that seven years of his history 
which to us is a blank, he had used his time well. He had 
dipped deep into the almost fathomless abysses of the human 
mind, and studied some of the most perplexing problems of 
life. All the harvestings of his earlier years, rich though they 
were, had been thrust upward by the solid mass of deeper 
knowledge which he had assimilated, until the profoundest 
truths which he had learned in the meadows and woodlands 
became but the outer garb and embellishments of his greater 
utterances concerning human nature. He had learned to 
portray mankind as it had never been portrayed before. His 
creations were no mere stage men and women, like the produc- 
tions of other dramatists, but actual living beings, with all their 
complex passions working darkly one against the other, and 
striving ever with that inner consciousness of truth, which, 
however powerful or however weak it may be, lies deep down 
in every human heart. His Bottoms and his Slys, and his 
almost endless variety of the rustic, he had doubtless seen at 
Stratford. But for his higher creations — his Macbeths, his 
Lears, his Hamlets, and his Iagos, his Greek and Roman heroes, 
his English kings and queens, his great statesmen and eccle- 
siastics, his wonderful and varied portraitures of women, tender, 
passionate, cruel, and capricious, — for all these, and for his 
vivid pictures of the strifes of nations, of parties, and of families, 
and of that harder strife of man against himself, he was no 
doubt indebted to his wanderings, his reading, and his insight, 
but more than anything else, perhaps, to the circumstances of 
the age in which he lived. For as yet the past still gilded the 
mountain-tops with its dying splendor, and a new and brighter 
day was dawning ere the old sun had set. 

- This, then, being the man, and this the kind of preparation 
he had undergone, it is not surprising that in a day in which 
the drama was in great demand and the dramatists were feeble 
he should speedily have found a profitable field^ for his labor. 
As with his country life, however, so with his life in London, — 
we know few of the details. He acted and he wrote ; and at 



24 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

length he became part proprietor of the Globe Theatre. He 
took out a coat-of-arms ; he bought property at Stratford. 
He was high in favor with Elizabeth and James I., and on 
terms of intimacy with some of the worthiest noblemen about 
the Court. Jonson, his friend and fellow-laborer, " loved and 
honored him," as he says, " on this side idolatry as much as 
any." Spenser, bursting into enthusiasm, declares himself 
proud of being his contemporary. And so the poet passed 
placidly onward, the companion of the great, the lover of the 
lowly, earning his daily bread like any other honest man, re- 
generating the only public secular teacher of his day, husband- 
ing his own resources against a future that never came, and 
preparing for posterity " a perpetual feast of nectared sweets 
where no crude surfeit reigns." He cared not for wealth and 
worldly honors except as means to an end ; for as soon as 
he had attained a modest competency, he quietly quitted the 
scene of his achievements and triumphs, and, with " his blush- 
ing honors thick upon him," retired once more to Stratford to 
spend the evening of life among the scenes and friends of his 
youth. 

And there he lived a few short years, and there he died, in 
the meridian of his working life, at the age of fifty-two, on 
the same day as Cervantes, and, like Petrarch, on his reputed 
birthday. He lies buried in the chancel of the old church hard 
by the Avon, and over his tomb there is a bust, said to have 
been cut from a cast of his features taken after death. This 
and the Droeshout engraving — forming the frontispiece to the 
first folio edition of his works published seven years after his 
death, and vouched for by Ben Jonson — are the only two por- 
traits of the poet which have come down to us authenticated 
by contemporary record. But there is no reason to doubt the 
tradition that the Chandos and Jansen pictures were painted 
from life while he was in London and in the zenith of his 
theatrical career. 




JOHN MILTON. 



JOHN MILTON. 25 



JOHN MILTON. 

[Born Dec. 9, 160S. Died Nov. 10, 1674.] 

r I "^HE surrounding circumstances of our youth are generally 
-*- the moulds from which the events of our after life are 
cast. The boyhood of John Milton was one in which the 
highest advantages of domestic example and education were 
afforded him, so that we expect a cast of a refined character to 
come from this mould. His father was a man of great profi- 
ciency in music, and he displayed considerable ability in many 
other branches of learning, being a scrivener by profession. By 
this occupation he acquired a handsome fortune. We think 
that those views of religious and civil liberty which John Milton 
so strenuously advocated during the whole period of his life 
were received by him in his early days from the teaching and 
moral example of his father. This father suffered much for con- 
science' sake. He was disinherited by his parents on account of 
his giving up their religious principles, which were those of the 
Romish faith, and embracing the Protestant religion. Not only 
did he receive this training for liberty from his father, but he 
had also a sound moral and religious example in his mother. 
She was a woman of modest piety and incomparable virtue. 
Did not this well- formed mould develop a faithful cast? Was 
not the manhood of John Milton an exact copy of these two 
natures combined? He was a zealous advocate for those same 
principles of liberty that his father was persecuted for uphold- 
ing, and a thoroughly earnest and pious Protestant. 

At first he received his education at home from one Thomas 
Young, who says that the progress of his pupil in every depart- 
ment of learning was so rapid that it completely outran his 
utmost efforts. 



26 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

At the early age of twelve he exhibited quick powers of per- 
ception and an extraordinary thirst for knowledge, so that he 
had to be restrained rather than encouraged, and his books were 
seldom left till midnight. Determined to make John Milton a 
scholar, his father sent him to St. Paul's School, through which 
he passed, entering Christ's College, Cambridge, at the age of 
fifteen. Whilst there, he exhibited his extraordinary poetic 
genius, composing a poem on the Gunpowder Plot. 

Retiring to his father's rural estate at Horton, in Bucking- 
hamshire, he spent five years in quiet classical study, and 
produced a delightful composition entitled " Comus : a Mask," 
which was presented at Ludlow Castle before the Earl of Bridge- 
water, then Lord President of Wales, by his children. Hun- 
dreds of people at the present time use the thoughts that 
Milton set forth in this production, unconscious of their source. 
Some of them have become familiar and common in almost 
every household in the land, and on reading it for the first time 
we cannot but be astonished with this fact. 

After travelling through Paris, Florence, Rome, Naples, and 
other continental cities, — his tour extending over a period of 
about fifteen months, — he engaged apartments in the house of a 
tailor named Russell, in St. Bride's Churchyard, London, where 
he undertook the education of two of his nephews. Removing 
from here, being induced by some friends to educate their chil- 
dren, he took a house in Aldersgate Street and became a 
schoolmaster. But teaching was not the only theme with 
which Milton's mind was now occupied. There was a stern 
struggle raging between the King and the Commons, and the 
public mind was in a great tumult. Now was the time for the 
early tuition of liberty which Milton had received to be brought 
into use, and it soon made itself known. He became a most 
vigorous writer on the side of the Commons ; but by so doing 
he placed himself in great danger. The dangerous position in 
which he stood may be gleaned from the fact that Alexander 
Leighton, in consequence of writing some pamphlets, which 
were in the same strain as those which came from the pen 
of Milton, had his nose slit and his ears cut off, and received 



JOHN MILTON. 27 

a public whipping ; and that Prynne was sentenced to stand in 
the pillory, to lose both his ears, and to pay a fine of .£3,000; 
and on another occasion the same man was condemned to be 
branded on both cheeks, to pay a fine of .£5,000, and to be 
imprisoned for life. Thus Milton, in fighting as he did with 
his pen against the King, was placing himself in danger of 
undergoing a like punishment. But boldly did he defend his 
convictions, flinching not before bishops, archbishops, or kings. 
This boldness is exhibited in an interview he had with the Duke 
of York, who afterwards became James II. The Duke, whilst 
talking one day to his brother, the King, expressed a wish 
to see this old man of whom he had heard so much. The 
King raised no objection, and an interview was soon the result. 
Though so very dissimilar in character, the two entered into a 
very free conversation. But the Duke could not refrain from 
putting questions of a partisan kind to Milton. He said, " Do 
you not regard the loss of your eyesight as a judgment inflicted 
upon you for what you have written against the late King?" 
Milton in response asked him, if these afflictions were to be 
regarded as judgments from Heaven, in what manner he would 
account for the fate of the late King. He argued that the dis- 
pleasure of Heaven must have been greater against the King 
than himself, as he had only lost his eyes, but the King had 
lost his head. Milton must have had courage indeed to have 
answered the Duke in this manner. It may be remarked that 
the Duke speedily left the house of Milton, and talking to the 
King about his visit told him that he was greatly to blame if he 
did not have Milton hanged. He then described the old poet 
to the King, and said he was very old and very poor.* " Old 
and poor ! " said the King. " Well, he is blind, too, is he not? " 
Again the Duke described the old man, adding that he was as 
blind as a beetle. " Why, then, you are a fool, James. You 
will not punish him by having him hanged, you will be doing 
him a service ; it will be taking him out of his miseries. No : 
if he is poor, old, and blind, he is miserable enough ; in all con- 
science, let him live." 

This extraordinary poet was a man who had to undergo 



28 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

extraordinary trouble. He had only been married about a month 
to Mary Powell, the daughter of a wealthy Royalist, when his bride 
desired to spend her summer holidays with her friends in Ox- 
fordshire. Her request was granted. She went, and was to have 
returned at Michaelmas. Michaelmas came, but brought back no 
Mary Powell. Milton wrote many letters, but they were not an- 
swered. A messenger was next sent, demanding her immediate 
return ; but, sending him away with contempt, she positively 
refused to rejoin her husband. When this was told Milton, he 
declared that he would no longer hold her as his wife. This cir- 
cumstance caused him to study the nature of the marriage tie, 
which investigation resulted in his publishing a work on the 
doctrine and discipline of divorce. But Milton and Mary Powell 
were not parted forever. Four years after, she heard he was 
visiting a friend ; and whilst there she suddenly came before him, 
and kneeling at his feet, with tears, implored him to forgive her. 
He forgave her all, and soon received her father, mother, and 
several of her brothers and sisters into his own house. But this 
was only the commencement of his trials. His eldest daughter, 
Anne, as a result of some accident in her infancy, was lame 
during the remainder of her life ; his third son only lived a few 
months; and in the month of May, 1652, another daughter was 
born at the cost of her mother's life. In addition to these, his 
own eyes were growing dim, and the rapid advance of blindness 
was painfully seen. Soon after the doctor discovered that blind- 
ness was approaching, he lost the entire sight of one eye, and 
about three years after, he says in a letter to a friend, he had 
become totally blind. Altogether we see that he had a deal of 
trouble 1 and affliction ; but it was all borne by this noble patriot 
manfully, and with patience and calm resignation, as his poem 
on his blindness indicates. Again we notice his dignified resig- 
nation to his lot in some words spoken by him in reply to one 
of his antagonists: "It is not miserable to be blind. He 
only is miserable who cannot acquiesce in his blindness with 
fortitude; and why should I repine at a calamity" which every 
man's mind ought to be so prepared and disciplined as to be 
able to undergo with patience, — a calamity to which every man 



JOHN MILTON. 29 

by the condition of his nature is liable, and which I know to 
have been the lot of some of the greatest of my species?" 

Engaged in such an important office as Latin Secretary to 
Cromwell, one would think that this affliction would cause him 
to retire from his position. But it had not this effect. He con- 
tinued his work with all his accustomed energy till the Restora- 
tion, dictating all the most important correspondence of the 
Commonwealth. But it is not on account of this office or of 
his Republican views that we revere him. That which is con- 
troversial and partisan about him is not the man in his best 
colors. It is as a poet that we delight to look upon him. That 
by which the world has judged him has not been his political 
pamphlets, but his poetical compositions. But, be it remem- 
bered, it was not in such a light that the people of his own time 
looked upon him. He was regarded then only as an advocate 
for Republicanism. The exquisite verses that came from his 
pen were little valued by the excited people in the time they 
were written. So little were they regarded that Milton's bust 
was refused a place in the Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey; 
whilst a monument was readily granted and erected to one John 
Phillips, whose only work was a poem on the " Splendid Shil- 
ling," which has long since been forgotten. We need scarcely 
say that about fifty years afterwards it was with universal ap- 
proval that a monument was placed within those historic walls 
" as a tribute to one of the greatest of our poets." That im- 
mortal poem, " Paradise Lost," was written during a time of 
adversity and poverty, but when his powers were in the fulness 
of vigor. He was blind at the time, and the writing of the verses 
was done principally by his second wife. She tells us that he 
composed generally the first thing in the morning, and she had 
to write him down twenty or thirty verses, — mostly composing 
more in the winter than the summer. Thus slowly but untir- 
ingly his grand work went on ; and whilst the first edition was 
in the press, he quietly departed this life. But though his body 
has been committed to the dust, his great epic lives, — a 
noble monument, that will remain as long as the world lasts. 
It has been translated into Greek, Latin, Italian, French, Ger- 



30 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

man, Dutch, and Portuguese; and several other poems of his 
have been translated into various languages. " Paradise Lost " 
is, in one respect, like the Bible, — it can be looked into at ran- 
dom, and wherever the eye rests the mind will be enlightened 
and the heart refreshed by the thoughts contained therein. 
Dean Stanley truly says it has " colored all English theology 
from top to bottom." When John Dryden first saw it he was 
heard to exclaim, " This man cuts us all out, and the ancients 
too ! " The words used by Sir John Denman concerning this 
poem are well worth quoting. On entering the House of Com- 
mons with a proof-sheet in his hand he said, " This is part of 
the noblest poem that ever was written in any language or in 
any age." 



JOHN BUNYAN. 

[Born 1628. Died Aug. 31, 16SS.] 

r I ^HE worth, both moral and mental, of an age may be esti- 
•*- mated with considerable accuracy by the value it puts on 
its great men. If we weigh the reign of Charles II. in such 
a balance, we shall find it altogether wanting. England had in 
those days two giants among her children. Of these heroic 
spirits, the chief, Milton, Was writing " Paradise Lost " in blind- 
ness, poverty, and neglect; the other, less gifted than he, but 
still mighty, produced the " Pilgrim's Progress " while he lay 
a prisoner for conscience' sake in Bedford jail. 

Macaulay and Southey — two men who, antagonistic in all 
other respects, were alike quick to recognize a hero — have left 
us vivid pictures of Bunyan. His rough boyhood, the strange 
contrast that his youth presented between the most reckless 
profanity of speech and the most rigid sobriety of behavior, 
the fear of hell that for several years kept his soul as in the grip 
of a fiend, — all these things the biographers in question have 
set down fairly. Of the intense religious enthusiasm that did 




JOHN BUNYAN. 



JOHN BUNYAN. 3 1 

not consume his soul but illumined it, they are, however, incom- 
petent critics. Neither can fully comprehend the height and 
depth of the spirit of Bunyan. When a recognition of the 
omnipresence of God had so thoroughly imbued this fervent 
genius that, lifting up his head after long musing on his sins and 
the condition to which they had brought him, the perturbed 
Pilgrim conceived the wrath of his Creator as flaming at him in 
the glances of the sun and written legibly on the stones of the 
street, Macaulay can compare him only to the madman who 
sees frightful faces threatening him from the corners of his cell. 
When Bunyan, for refusing to cease preaching, and not a word 
or deed beyond, was addressed as follows : " Hear your judg- 
ment. You must be had back again to prison, and there lie for 
three months following ; and at three months' end, if you do 
not submit to go to church and leave your preaching, you must 
be banished the realm. And if, after such a day as shall be ap- 
pointed you to be gone, you shall be found in this realm, you 
must stretch by the neck for it : I tell you plainly," — when 
persecution had thus spoken, Southey, contemplating its victim 
as he turns away to his twelve years' imprisonment, finds him 
rather fanatic than martyr. 

"Will your husband leave preaching? " asked Judge Twisden, 
when Elizabeth Bunyan pleaded to Sir Matthew Hale and him- 
s.elf for the release of her husband, telling them of the " four 
small children by the former wife, one of them blind," and that 
" they had nothing to live upon while their father was in prison 
but the charity of good people." " My lord," replied the daunt- 
less woman, "he dares not leave preaching while he can speak." 
She was his wife, and knew him. After years of spiritual con- 
flict, and prayers that were little more than groans, Bunyan at 
length saw his way clear before him, and would not turn from it 
because there were lions in the path. In the Book of Martyrs, 
that marvellous record of the limitless endurance of human- 
ity, he had read, with the unspeakable emotion of a mighty 
spirit, when out of the distance of centuries there comes to it 
the voice of a brother; the dying words of the Italian martyr, 
Pomponius Algerius. Writing from his prison while the stake 



32 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

is being driven into the ground and the fagots heaped, this 
truest hero can find only expressions of hope and joy. " Here," 
he tells his friends, " is Mount Sion ; here I am already in Heaven 
itself. Here standeth first Christ Jesus in the front; about him 
stand the old patriarchs, prophets, and evangelists, apostles, and 
all the servants of God, of whom some do embrace and cherish 
me, some comfort me, other some are singing about me. How 
then shall I be thought to be alone, among so many and such as 
these ! " A few hours and the hand that penned these lines was 
burned to ashes ; the letter remained, to burn its way into the 
heart of Bunyan. "Was not this man," he cries, "a giant? 
Had he not also now hold of the shield of faith? In the com- 
bat did he not behave himself valiantly? " Only at that day 
when earth in passing away forever yields up all her secrets, 
shall we know how large a share Pomponius Algerius had in 
the production of the " Pilgrim's Progress." The prison where 
it was written Bunyan might never have entered had not the 
trumpet voice of the Paduan student so transported his soul. As 
the doors were about to close on him, the miseries his family 
must henceforth undergo rose up before him like so many 
spectres, and had all but thrust him back. Truth in seasons 
of sorrow is always more pathetic than fiction. No novelist 
ever equalled the few sentences in which Bunyan expresses the 
grief that afflicted him at parting with his blind daughter, dearer 
than his three other children to the father whose face she was 
never to behold. " The thoughts of the hardships my poor 
blind one might go under would break my heart to pieces. 
Poor child, thought I, what sorrow art thou like to have for 
thy portion in this world ! Thou must be beaten, must beg, 
suffer hunger, cold, nakedness, and a thousand calamities, 
though I cannot now endure the wind should blow upon 
thee." Is it to be wondered at that he paused? His con- 
flict of spirit, however, was but momentary. As he hesitated 
there flamed on him the remembrance of the army of mar- 
tyrs, and he thought with what trust all these had rendered 
up their souls to God. "I must do it," he cries to his family. 
" Though it goeth to the quick to leave you, I must venture 



JOHN BUNYAN. 33 

you all with God/' Once in prison some words of Pomponius 
Algerius returned again and again to his mind. " In this world," 
the Italian hero had written, " there is no mansion firm to me, 
and therefore I will travel up to the New Jerusalem which is in 
Heaven, and which oftereth itself to me. . . . Behold, I have 
already entered on my journey, where my house standeth for 
me prepared, and where I shall have riches, kinsfolks, delights, 
honors never failing." Musing on this city of triumph, Bunyan 
laid aside one day the laces he was making for the support of 
his family, and with pen and ink before him began, in his own 
phrase, " to dream a dream." Presently out of the fire of his 
trials there had risen a phoenix, and from that dim prison at 
Bedford a book went forth, the pages of which are lit with 
something of the light of heaven. 

Since the death of its author the " Pilgrim's Progress " has 
pressed forward on a pilgrimage of its own, that, becoming ever 
more and more triumphant, shall end only when wreaths of 
amaranth replace our earthly laurels. The fame of Bunyan has 
grown in stature with the successive editions of his book. He, 
whom his townspeople spoke of as a " pestilent fellow," and 
Bedford magistrates bade get to his tinkering, holds now a fore- 
most place among the worthies that England delights to honor. 
Bedford, that once imprisoned him as a troublesome fanatic, 
thinks it her highest honor to possess the statue of the Pilgrim a 
twelve years' captivity stayed so cruelly on his passage through 
life. In the very market-place where two centuries ago the blind 
daughter of John Bunyan sold the laces her father had made, 
men high in Church and State gathered a few years back to see 
unveiled the effigy of a man whose allegory is, next to the Bible, 
the delight of pious hearts, and points more nobly than ever did 
cathedral spire to the land where, whatever be the darkness of 
earth, there shines an eternal day. For as there are many repu- 
tations that blaze across the firmament of literature like meteors, 
and suddenly disappear, so a few can be numbered that, at first 
feeble as the tiny lamp of the glow-worm, wax gradually into a 
fulness of light by which the steps of generation after generation 
are guided. Among such stars a splendor of the first magnitude 

3 



34 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

must be assigned to Bunyan. His praise is no longer left solely 
to the pens of Dissenters, and his greatness and goodness are 
recognized as the common glory of every Christian church. It 
is fitting that this should be the lot of a man who died from an 
illness caught while trying to reconcile a father and son, and 
who, when required to name his sect, replied, " Since you 
would know by what name I would be distinguished from 
others, I choose, if God should count me worthy, to be called 
a Christian y 



BISHOP GILBERT BURNET. 

[Born 1643. Died 1715.] 

THE subject of our present memoir was born in those 
troublesome times which formed the cradle of the inde- 
pendence of which we are proud. He was born at Edinburgh 
in 1643, descended from an ancient family of the county of 
Aberdeen. His father was a lawyer, and after the Restoration 
was appointed one of the Lords of the Session by the title of 
Lord Crimond. About the age of ten Gilbert was sent to Mar- 
ischal College, Aberdeen. At fourteen he was admitted to the 
degree of M. A. His own inclinations would have led him to 
the bar, but, to the delight of his father, he changed his mind 
and applied himself to divinity. At eighteen he was ordained. 
Being shortly offered a benefice by Sir Alexander Burnet, he 
refused it from conscientious motives. In 1663 he went to 
England, and after six months returned to Scotland. After- 
wards he made a tour of Holland and France. During this 
journey he was not unmindful of his studies. At Amsterdam, 
by aid of a Jewish Rabbi, he perfected his knowledge of He- 
brew. Not only so, he made acquaintance with the leading 
men of every section. This was not without fruit. He learned 
a lesson of charity, which taught him without abnegation of his 
own opinion to perceive that there were good men in every 




BISHOP GILBERT BURNET. 



BISHOP GILBERT BURNET. 35 

party, — that bitterness of opinion was not becoming the true 
Christian character. 

Upon his return he served as minister of Saltoun for five 
years. At this period he drew up a memorial of some faults in 
the conduct of the Scottish bishops, which he thought were not 
according to primitive custom. He sent a copy of the memo- 
rial to each bishop. Such a proceeding necessarily brought 
odium upon him. To show that he was not ambitious or 
moved by unworthy motives he retired into private life for two 
years, during which excessive study endangered his health. 

In 1663 he was appointed Professor of Divinity in the Uni- 
versity of Glasgow. According to the custom of the time he 
delivered his lectures in Latin. Here he also laid the foun- 
dation of theological knowledge. In 1669 he published a 
" Modest and Free Conference between Conformist and Non- 
conformist." Through this work he became acquainted with 
the Duchess of Hamilton, and with the aid of the papers of her 
father and her uncle she furnished, he sent forth the " Memoirs 
of the Dukes of Hamilton." Whilst thus employed the Duke of 
Lauderdale heard of him, invited him to London, and gave him 
an introduction to Charles II. Soon after this he returned to 
Scotland and married Lady Mary Kennedy, daughter of the 
Earl of Cassilis. This lady was well known for her great knowl- 
edge, and highly esteemed among the Presbyterians. There 
was a great inequality of age, and Burnet, to show that the 
match was one not of avarice but of affection, caused, the day 
before the marriage, a deed to be drawn out, by which he 
renounced any advantage which might have accrued to him 
from her death, which happened shortly afterwards. 

In 1673 he published " Vindication of the Authority, Consti- 
tution, and Law of the Church and State of Scotland." This 
work aroused the attention of the Government, and, being 
highly approved, he was offered a bishopric. He declined, as 
he was opposed on principle to what he considered the Popish 
inclinations of the Court. However, through the influence of 
the Dukes of Hamilton and Lauderdale, he was brought into 
the Court and consulted by many. But having offended 



36 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Lauderdale, the most unscrupulous of the men of his age, he 
met with a cool reception. Desirous of returning to Scotland, 
by the persuasion of friends he remained in London. To their 
honor, the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul's, knowing all the cir- 
cumstances, offered him the living of Cripplegate, then vacant ; 
but Burnet, being informed that their first intention was to 
have offered it to Dr. Fowler, generously declined. In 1675, 
on recommendation of Lord Hollis, he was appointed preacher 
of the Rolls Chapel, and soon after elected lecturer of St. 
Clement's.. He soon made his mark, and became popular. In 
1681 he sent forth the first volume of the "History of the 
Reformation," in 1682 the second, and in 171 5 the third vol- 
ume. For this work, which is still highly esteemed, he received 
the thanks of both Houses of Parliament. During the trouble- 
some time that followed, he was resorted to for advice by 
persons of all ranks and parties. To avoid all jealousy, he 
built himself a laboratory and studied chemistry. Often con- 
sulted by the King, he was offered the bishopric of Chichester, 
but with such conditions that he indignantly refused. Soon 
after, by the machinations of his enemies, he was dismissed 
from the preachership of the Rolls. 

On the accession of James II., having obtained leave, he 
went to Paris. Here for a time he lived in retirement, but soon 
after made a tour of Italy. Innocent XL, having heard of 
him, offered him a private interview, which, however, Burnet 
declined. Engaging in some religious controversies, he was 
obliged to depart, making a journey through Switzerland and 
Germany. At Utrecht he received an invitation from the 
Prince and Princess of Orange, to whom he had been recom- 
mended by the Protestant party in England. From this event 
he became an object of hatred to James II., and, being prose- 
cuted for high treason, he, having received intelligence thereof 
beforehand, became a naturalized subject of Holland under 
plea of marriage with Mary Scott, his second wife. Thus pro- 
tected by Holland, and under the care of William of Orange, 
he labored for the welfare of William and Mary. The former 
he accompanied to England, and afterward was advanced to the 



BISHOP GILBERT BURNET. 37 

see of Salisbury. As a bishop he advocated moderate meas- 
ures as to Nonjurors and Nonconformists. This brought upon 
him the enmity of many. The Earl of Shaftesbury writes 
thus : " As my Lord of Salisbury has done more than any man 
living for the good and honor of the Church of England and 
the Reformed faith, so now he suffers more than any man from 
the tongue and slander of those ungrateful Churchmen who 
may well call them by that single name of distinction, since 
they have thrown off all the temper of the former and all con- 
cern and interest with the latter." 

In 1693, after the publication and condemnation of Blount's 
anonymous publication, " King William and Queen Mary Con- 
querors," an opportunity was taken by Burnet's enemies to 
bring a pastoral letter of his before the House of Commons. 
It was ordered to be burnt by the common hangman. His sec- 
ond wife died in 1698. Having been appointed tutor to the 
Duke of Gloucester, and considering the tender age of his own 
children, he married a widow, Mrs. Berkeley, daughter of Sir 
Richard Blake. In 1699 he published the " Exposition of the 
Thirty-nine Articles," a work which, now esteemed, for some 
time brought odium on the author. The Lord Shaftesbury 
whom we have quoted above praises this work very highly, 
declaring it highly worthy of study. " None can," says he, 
" better explain the sense of the Church than one who is a 
great pillar of the same." The bishop narrowly escaped a 
charge of heresy. This perhaps cannot be wondered at when 
the temper of the age, with its deep feelings mingled with sus- 
picions, is considered. 

He formed a scheme for the augmentation of poor livings, 
which he pressed with such success that an Act of Parliament 
was passed in the second year of Queen Anne for the " aug- 
mentation of poor livings." 

Bishop Burnet died in 171 5, and was interred at St. James's, 
Clerkenwell, in which church a monument is erected to his 
memory. In considering the life of Burnet it is necessary to 
take into full account the times in which he lived and wrote. 
It was an age of deep controversy and heartfelt conviction, 



38 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

when questions of the deepest moment, both in Church and 
State, were discussed with a warmth and earnestness which can 
hardly be conceived. With that fervor on the one side there 
was mingled a laxity of morality on the other. Burnet is an 
example of one who, at least in some degree, managed to keep 
himself free from many entanglements ; and though at times 
the critic may be inclined to take him to task, yet there are 
many traits in his character which call for admiration and 
esteem. He had a deep attachment to his country and Church, 
and was desirous of working for the benefit of both. Of the 
many works which he has left, and which are too numerous 
to be specified, we may say that " The History of his own 
Time " is most valuable, giving a knowledge otherwise unattain- 
able. His style is at times too familiar; but these blemishes 
are well counteracted by the fulness of his information, the be- 
nevolence of his sentiments, and the earnestness of his manner. 
On the whole, his statements may be received with confidence, 
while his judgment is always sober and sound. 



JOSEPH ADDISON. 

[Born 1672. Died 1719.] 

IVTO author possessed of such a comparatively slight amount 
-*- ^ of learning, and endowed with so little decided genius, has 
ever succeeded in attaining the fame and popularity of Addi- 
son. As a poet he is hardly entitled to be placed side by side 
with Goldsmith, Johnson, Gray, and others, whom no one would 
dream of placing in the very first rank; his dramas are scarcely 
worthy of even as much praise as his poems; as a critic he is 
found wanting in those essential qualities — a knowledge of the 
principles of art and of the true motives by which human actions 
are actuated — without which the work of a critic is without 
value ; and as a statesman he was a most ecrecious failure. 




JOSEPH ADDISON. 



JOSEPH ADDISON. 39 

And yet but few more popular writers have ever lived. To what 
then are his fame and popularity as a writer due? A careful 
consideration of his life, of the history of the times in which he 
lived, of the state of the literature of the country at that period, 
and of the various circumstances under which he wrote, is neces- 
sary in order to enable us to arrive at a solution of this problem. 
The only son of Dean Addison, of Lichfield, Joseph Addi- 
son was born at Milston on the ist of March, 1672. He was 
educated at Amesbury, Salisbury, and at the Charter-house. 
In his fifteenth year he went to Queen's College, Oxford, 
whence he shortly afterwards migrated to Magdalen College, 
where, through the influence of Dr. Lancaster, who was much 
struck with some Latin verses of Addison's which accidentally 
fell into his hands, he was in 1689 elected a demy, and sub- 
sequently became a fellow. In his twenty-second year he ad- 
dressed some complimentary lines to Dryden, who in return 
permitted him to write a preface to his translation of the "Geor- 
gics," and complimented him in the postscript to the translation 
of the "^Eneid" with perhaps more liberality than sincerity. It 
was at this time the intention of both his father and himself that 
he should take orders, — a course, however, from which he was 
dissuaded by Montague, then Secretary of State, who, having 
procured for him a pension of ^"300 a year, as a reward for a 
poem which he addressed to King William, induced him to 
adopt politics as a profession in preference to the Church. In 
order to acquire a knowledge of French, with which an intimate 
acquaintance is so essential to a politician, he in 1699 proceeded 
to Blois, where for about a twelvemonth he applied himself 
assiduously to the study of that language. Having then suffi- 
ciently mastered French, he in 1700 betook himself to Italy, 
where he wrote his epistle to Lord Halifax, — a work which, 
though it at the time added greatly to his renown, will, as Lord 
Macaulay says, " be hardly considered as in any perceptible 
degree heightening his fame." While in Italy, all his prospects 
were for the time darkened by the death of William III. The 
Whig ministers, Addison's patrons, — Manchester, Halifax, and 
Somers, — went out of office. Addison shared their fate ; all 



40 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

his hopes of public employment were for the time at an end, 
and his pension was stopped. 

Being now obliged to exert himself in order to obtain his bare 
livelihood, he accepted an engagement as travelling tutor to a 
young squire, with whom he visited the greater part of Switzer- 
land and Germany. It was during this period that he wrote his 
treatise on medals, — a work which more than any other shows 
his intimate knowledge of the Latin poets, and displays his want 
of interest in the work of the Roman historians and orators, and 
his comparative ignorance of the Greek writers. Addison's 
affairs seemed now more hopeless than ever, but fortune came 
to his rescue. The great battle of Blenheim was fought and 
won by the English troops. It was a victory worthy of poetic 
celebration, and yet no poet could be found equal to the occa- 
sion. Many poems, if they may be so styled, were poured forth 
in honor of the event ; but their merits, or rather demerits, were 
such as were calculated rather to render the hero of the occasion 
ludicrous than to shed any ray of glory upon his victory. At 
the suggestion of Halifax, Addison was officially commissioned 
to write a poem in celebration of the victory and in honor of the 
victor, the Duke of Marlborough, the result of which was the 
publication of the " Campaign," for which he received a com- 
missionership of appeals with a fairly liberal salary. Two years 
after, his patrons having returned to office, he was appointed 
Under Secretary of State, and in 1809 went over to Ireland 
as secretary to the Lord Lieutenant and Keeper of the Records. 
It was whilst in Ireland that he wrote some of the most charm- 
ing of his contributions to the " Tatler," a periodical which had 
shortly before been started and was then being carried on by 
his friend Steele. Soon after his return to England he was in- 
strumental in the production of the " Spectator" in 171 1 ; the 
" Spectator " was followed by the " Guardian," the " Guardian " 
by the " Englishman," and the " Englishman " in its turn by the 
" Freeholder." In these various periodicals Addison's best 
work appeared, in the form of essays. Indeed, it is by these 
essays alone that he at all deserves the fame he has acquired, 
or the place he now holds, as a writer. 



JOSEPH ADDISON. 41 

In 1716 he married the Dowager Countess of Warwick, — a 
union which proved fraught with much unhappiness to both 
husband and wife, and which contributed little, if anything, to 
his advancement. In the following year he was appointed Sec- 
retary of State, — an office he was wholly unfitted to hold, and 
which he was compelled to resign in the spring of 171 8, a 
liberal pension being granted him. He was not, however, des- 
tined long to enjoy the pleasure of private life.; his health grad- 
ually failed him, and asthma, from which he had long suffered, 
increased in violence, and, being aggravated by dropsy, broke 
up his constitution. Feeling that his end was near, he pre- 
pared to die in accordance with the religion he had always 
professed and endeavored to carry into practice. A few hours 
before he died he sent for his step-son, the young Earl of War- 
wick, who had fallen into dissolute habits, and whom he had 
long earnestly tried to reclaim. Addressing him with great ten- 
derness, he said, " I have sent for you that you may see how a 
Christian can die," hoping doubtless that such an affecting scene 
would have more effect than all his previous admonitions and 
expostulations. He died on the 17th of June, 17 19, having just 
completed his forty-seventh year. 

Having now shortly sketched the principal events of his life, 
we are in a position to consider the question we before pro- 
pounded: To what are Addison's fame and popularity as a 
writer due? In the first place he flourished in a fortunate hour. 
Dryden was no more, and Pope was yet in embryo. England 
could boast of no poet, of no author, able to satisfy the growing 
literary desires of the age. Education was rapidly increasing, 
more especially amongst the squires and knights, who a gen- 
eration before were wholly devoid of even the rudiments of 
learning, and accordingly despised it. They wanted something 
light, gay, entertaining, and cheerful ; anything deep and pon- 
derous, entailing labor in perusal, and wanting in lively interest, 
would have simply wearied them, and induced them to relin- 
quish all endeavors to find amusement in literature. Here, 
then, was a serious want, a great popular want, and no one 
but Addison able to satisfy it. He did satisfy this want, and 



42 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

in a manner which does equal credit to his memory as a man 
and as an author. His papers to the " Tatler," the " Spectator," 
the " Guardian," the " Englishman," and the " Freeholder," hu- 
morous, witty, and gay, are such in character and in style as 
pre-eminently to suit the exigencies of the age for which he 
wrote. Here, then, are the first secrets of his success, — he sup- 
plied a general want and wrote for the general public, and not for 
the learned and wise alone. But there was yet another potent 
reason which greatly contributed to his fame and popularity. It 
was at the time an almost universally accepted theory that it was 
impossible to write in a style at once pleasing and gay without 
descending to coarseness and immorality, that wit and modesty 
in literature were incompatible. Addison dispelled this unhal- 
lowed idea. " He taught the nation that the faith and morality 
of Hall and Tillotson might be found in company with wit 
more sparkling than the wit of Congreve, and with humor 
richer than the humor of Vanbrugh." 

Of Addison's character mucrrhas been written with the pur- 
pose of showing that he is not entitled to be viewed in so favora- 
ble a light as he has been generally represented. Many serious 
charges, which seem at first inconsistent with the true profes- 
sion of virtue, are brought and to a certain extent proved 
against him. But even granting that all the accusations which 
have been made against him were proved, we yet prefer to 
regard his character in a more favorable light than his detrac- 
tors are willing to concede. In forming an opinion of the 
character of a man we must not base our conclusions, or indeed 
be greatly influenced in the formation of our opinions, by 
isolated accusations which may be proved against him, but 
must rather base our judgment upon a general review of his 
actions and conduct of life. Looking at Addison in this light, 
we find him from the first to the last professing principles of 
pure Christianity and morality, continually endeavoring to carry 
these principles in practice, and constantly and fearlessly ad- 
vocating them in a most forcible manner. He was, however, 
doubtless not endowed with that strength of character which is 
necessary to enable men always to act in accordance with their 




SAMUEL JOHNSON. 



SAMUEL JOHNSON. 43 

principles. He was afflicted with a somewhat jealous and ran- 
corous disposition. These infirmities — and who amongst us is 
wholly free from any? — at times overcame his endeavor to 
carry into practice the principles which he felt to be true, and 
which he used every endeavor to practise and to inculcate in 
others, but they are wholly insufficient to show that he was a 
hypocrite. Addison was not a great man in any sense of the 
word ; but when we consider the whole course of his life, we 
cannot in fairness deny him the attributes of conscientious 
morality and virtue. 

" He taught us how to live"; and, oh ! too high 
The price of knowledge, taught us how to die." 



SAMUEL JOHNSON. 

[Born Sept. 18, 1709. Died Dec. 13, 1784.] 

/ "~T*HE eighteenth century, so seldom fortunate in its pictures, 
-*- has at least produced one on which the eyes of English- 
men must forever rest with reverence, — the picture of Samuel 
Johnson standing bareheaded in the market-place of Uttoxeter, 
while the rain beat down on that uncovered head, and the 
bystanders looked with mocking wonder on the noble, sorrow- 
ful old man. Their sneers were nothing to him, trifles of as 
petty import as the Present, that for one brief, heart-stirring 
hour he had forgotten. His eyes and thoughts were fifty years 
away; the rugged veteran, gray and infirm and famous, was 
recalling with a yearning and remorseful sorrow how, half a 
century before, he, out of the wilful petulance of boyhood, had 
cruelly disobeyed his father. Old Michael Johnson, the strug- 
gling bookseller of Lichfield, whose custom it was to go over 
on market-days to neighboring towns and set up his book-stall 
among the other stalls that filled the market-place, had been 
kept from one such journey by illness. He begged that his son 



44 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

would replace him, the market-town for the day being Uttoxe- 
ter. The lad refused. Pride and vanity and shyness were all 
stirring within him ; and he could see, not the sorrowful face of 
his sick father, only the degradation, as he fancied it, of play- 
ing the stall-keeper, and his ungainly figure exciting the ridi- 
cule of an Uttoxeter crowd. How many times in after life did 
the recollection of that thankless stubbornness sting in upon 
him, " sharper than a serpent's tooth," bitter as is always the 
memory of ingratitude ! He could not atone for it ; the grave 
lay between him and his father and prevented all atonement ; 
but at least he would do his best to prove by tears and prayers 
and sorrowful penance the depth of his repentance for that sin- 
gle disobedience. It reads with the solemnity of some Biblical 
record, the story of the aged writer, fresh from the applause 
and homage of London, standing humbly bareheaded in that 
Uttoxeter market-place, while the rain fell and the crowd jeered, 
and his earnest, rugged spirit lifted itself in an imploring prayer 
that his Heavenly Father and his earthly would both forgive 
him that boyish trespass. English biography has not such 
another scene. 

An uncouth, repellent exterior, under which emotions of the 
deepest and truest tenderness rested in living freshness, ready, 
at the summons of great joys or sorrows, to burst forth, as 
water leaped from the rock beneath the rod of Moses, — such 
is the aspect that distinguishes Johnson above all great men 
who ever stamped their impress on a century, and left it there 
an image over which generations yet unborn might meditate. 
His history lives, though his writings with few exceptions lie 
unread on the dusty shelves of libraries; and lives) not only 
because Boswell has recorded it in the first of biographies, but 
because its character proves Johnson to have been one of the 
first of men. His startling prejudices and despotic rudeness, 
the contempt he sometimes felt and expressed for men still 
greater than himself, — these and other unpleasant traits kindly 
Time has softened for us. They were of the clay, not the 
spirit, and may be suffered to follow into oblivion the clay that 
was once the uneasy prison-house of this kingly soul. The great 



SAMUEL JOHNSON. 45 

Englishman himself remains to us, — the man who, whether 
starving in unfurnished garrets or holding converse with his 
sovereign in the royal library, whether earning fourpence-half- 
penny a day or gifted with a sufficient pension, was always 
entirely earnest and noble and sincere. He had satire for the 
complaints that are born of trifles, for bitter misery the readiest 
and most, generous help. There were many in England at that 
day whose speech was filled with a sentimentality of which their 
lives were barren, — men that, like Sterne, could "whimper 
over a dead ass and neglect a living mother." There was only 
Johnson who, finding lying in the street at late night a half- 
dead outcast, one of the miserable class always so hideously 
plentiful in London, could lift this wreck of a woman with rug- 
ged tenderness, bear the sick and starving wretch to his own 
house, and when with much trouble and expense she was 
nursed back to health, seek to put her into an honest way of 
living. 

Suffering as even authors have seldom suffered, he preserved 
his heroic unselfishness and his wealth of manly affection un- 
tarnished through it all. We picture him walking homeless 
through the streets at night, or sharing with Richard Savage 
the opportune shelter of some cellar; we see the melancholy, 
indomitable worker, roughened now by trials that would have 
broken down a nature with any taint of weakness, as, having 
waited day after day in Chesterfield's anterooms, he turns for 
the last time from that delusive mansion, and shakes forever 
the hope of patronage from his soul. And remembering how, 
when, his Dictionary, the colossal result of seven years' labor, 
had brought him both fame and competence, he used his good 
fortune for the profit not of himself but of others, — that out 
of a pension of three hundred pounds yearly he devoted scarce 
eighty to his own wants, — and that his very house was made 
comfortless to him by inmates whom he had received there out 
of the purest charity, — we feel that Johnson, with all his grim- 
ness, had no more of the bear than the skin, and was of 
eighteenth-century Englishmen the man whom, next to Burke, 
it is most possible to respect and love. " He loved the poor as 



46 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

I never saw any one else love them," was the testimony of Mrs. 
Thrale. The same strong powers of affection, held always in 
restraint by a rugged manliness, are apparent in all the actions 
of his life. The best test of genuine greatness is, perhaps, the 
conduct of a man towards the women who are bound to him by 
the dearest of ties, — towards mother, sister, and wife. Tried 
by this standard, the sterling metal of the character of Johnson 
is at once apparent. No man in the whole history of English 
literature was more strangely married ; yet his painted, fantas- 
tic, over-dressed, half-educated helpmate, more than twenty 
years the senior of the man who had wedded her, found him to 
the end of her life the most tender and forbearing of husbands. 
When he and she had both passed away into that eternity 
where all ages are equal, passages such as, " This was dear 
Letty's book," or, " This was a prayer which dear Letty was 
accustomed to say," were found in books of devotion that had 
belonged to her, written there by Samuel Johnson in memory 
of the wife who died thirty years before him. At her death he 
wrote to his friend Dr. Taylor a letter which, said Taylor, 
" expressed grief in the strongest manner I had ever read." 
Long, very long afterwards, the time came when Samuel John- 
son was himself entering the valley of the shadow of death, 
never again to emerge therefrom. On the day that was the 
anniversary of his wife's death, he took his diary and wrote in 
it a few words, as sorrowful as they are few. " This is the day 
on which, in 1752, dear Letty died. I have now uttered a 
prayer of repentance and contrition. Perhaps Letty knows 
that I prayed for her. Perhaps Letty is now praying for me. 
God help me. Thou, God, art merciful, hear my prayers and 
enable me to trust in Thee." 

With that dying cry of the sorrowful, great heart we may 
fitly close our thoughts of Johnson. His writings may pass 
away from us, the memory of such a life can never pass. It 
remains to proclaim to the farthest generations of his country- 
men, " This was a man;" to preach how in sickness, destitution, 
almost in despair, a spirit truly Titanic can still approve itself 
sublime. ' 




ft2«s* 



THOMAS GRAY. 



THOMAS GRAY. 47 



THOMAS GRAY. 

[Born 1716. Died 1771.] 

TF England owes a debt of gratitude to Gray, it is because he 
-*- is the author of two poems that have sunk deep into the 
nation's heart. His " Elegy in a Country Churchyard " and his 
" Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College " have had whole 
generations of admirers, and will have many more. 

Blessed with a good education at Eton and Cambridge, the 
friend of West and Horace Walpole, conversant with the Latin 
and Greek classics, skilled in modern languages and devoted 
to poetry, Gray visited Florence under the most favorable aus- 
pices, and prolonged his journey to Rome, Naples, and Her- 
culaneum. There he began a Latin poem on the Principles 
of Thought; but it is well for us that he broke with Horace 
Walpole, and returned to his native country to cultivate his 
genius for English verse. 

In view of the marvellous rapidity with which famous poems 
have been thrown off in later days, it is almost amusing to 
be told that the " Elegy," on which Gray's reputation is so 
deservedly founded, though commenced in 1742, was not com- 
pleted till seven years after. But whatever may have been the 
cause of the composition being spread over so long a period, 
the result has been commensurate with the labor. Not a line 
in the piece has missed its mark, or failed to awaken unfailing 
echoes of delight. To have written it and the Eton College 
Ode was in his case to have fulfilled the purpose of his ex- 
istence, for his studies in architecture and his professorship 
of modern history at Cambridge are now scarcely remembered. 
What endures is that lively picture of the happy playground 
at Eton, where life is all freshness and promise, where the 
evils and sorrows to come are mercifully veiled, and youth is 



48 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

acquiring strength to support the labors and trials of riper age. 
Gray wrote little, but what he wrote was so good ! He knew 
how to avoid the snare in which so many are entrapped, and 
did not overwrite himself. Yet he read enormously. His 
notes on Plato and Aristophanes were edited by Mathias. He 
was well versed for his time in zoology and botany. He was 
skilled in heraldry and a diligent antiquarian. His correspond- 
ence remains to testify to his studies and taste, though his 
biographer — Mason — in his mania for emendation has altered 
Gray's letters where he deemed them capable of — improve- 
ment. So Nahum Tate improved Shakspeare, and revived 
"King Lear" "with alterations"! . 

In a few stanzas of the matchless " Elegy in a Country 
Churchyard " this reserved and silent scholar has left us a pic- 
ture, applicable in many of its features to himself, with which 
we are all familiar : — 

" There at the foot of yonder nodding beech 
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, 
His listless length at noontide would he stretch, 
And pore upon the brook that babbles by." 

In the solitude of nature the fire of his genius fused the 
treasures of his mind into one equable stream of golden verse. 
In this beautiful "Elegy" he does what so few can do, — speaks 
well on ordinary topics, and is fresh and original without ex- 
aggeration or affectation of any kind. If any one thinks he 
can improve any expression or epithet in it, let him try. Jewel 
succeeds jewel line after line, and Time discovers no flaw. 
Such a poem is a lasting service rendered to any country; and 
poets when they write in this wise are social benefactors of 
no mean account. Their influence is not to be measured by 
the number of their admirers, but by the quality of the minds 
into which their lessons and their music sink deep. For the 
persons who have thus imbibed the teaching of the best poets 
are really the individuals who give tone to society and help 
most effectually to improve their generation. 




ADAM SMITH. 



ADAM SMITH. 49 



ADAM SMITH. 

[Born 1723. Died 1790.] 

r I "HE singularly uneventful lives of some very remarkable 
-*- men render it an extremely difficult task to frame such 
a memoir as can possibly be made interesting to an ordinary 
reader. Everybody has heard of the " Wealth of Nations." 
The book may be seen on almost any second-hand book-stall, 
and possibly a few of those who know that it is a celebrated 
book on the subject of political economy may have even gone 
so far as to read it. But its popularity is like that of " Paradise 
Lost," or the "Iliad," or the " Divine Comedy," — it is a good 
deal talked about; and as Voltaire has wittily said, people 
take that as a sufficient excuse for not reading it. Unfortu- 
nately for the more particular sort, — persons who like to know 
something of the personal character of their author, and who 
gather thereby a more distinct portraiture, and one capable of 
being better remembered than a mere eulogy of abstract quali- 
ties, — the only important biography of this distinguished writer, 
whose name is almost a household word, is the very brief and 
interrupted account prefixed by Dugald Stewart to the col- 
lected edition of his writings. Brief as it is, it is far too effusive 
on the literary side of the man to be quite satisfactory to one 
who is neither a philosopher nor a political economist. And 
being brief, it necessarily omits many things that would have 
been extremely interesting to know about so notable a 
man. But it is very truly remarked, though in a somewhat 
different sense if we recollect rightly, in Taylor's " Philip 
Van Artevelde," — 

"The world knows nothing of its greatest men." 

It is a sentiment certainly that may account for our ignorance 
of Homer and Shakspeare and Plato, and one or two more ; 

4 



50 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

but it scarcely accounts for our ignorance of those who only- 
lived a century ago. The story of Adam Smith's life, apart 
from his studies, his lectures, and his books, is brief, because 
the life itself was almost entirely made up of studies and lectures 
and the making of books. He was born at Kirkcaldy, — "the 
lang toun," — claimed in the Dark Ages as the birthplace of the 
famous wizard Michael Scot — on the 5th of June, 1723. His 
father, who had been comptroller of customs in that busy little 
port, died some months before he was born. He was an only 
child, and consequently was brought up with the greatest care 
and tenderness by his mother, for whom he ever cherished a 
most marked and lively affection. At a proper age he entered 
the grammar school of Kirkcaldy, and remained there until 
removed to pursue his studies at the University of Glasgow. 
He entered Glasgow at fourteen, and remained three years. 
Being intended by his fond mother for a clergyman of the 
English Church, he left the old Scottish university to proceed 
to Oxford, and entered Balliol College as a Snell exhibitioner. 
Here for seven years he studied mathematics, natural philoso- 
phy, and the classical and modern languages ; but he gave up 
the idea of entering the Church. Indeed, to a man of his 
simple and earnest character, and taste for metaphysical studies, 
the Church, which should have been his natural asylum, pos- 
sessed at that time few attractions. Most of its clergy were 
cold, worldly, selfish men, — preachers, or at least writers, of 
stilted compositions styled sermons, usually dedicated to some 
person of quality on whose bounty they were mainly depen- 
dent; but as pastors, or even as educational guides to the 
young, the poor, and the ignorant generally, they were wofully 
neglectful and indifferent. Besides, the illiberal manner in 
which he felt himself treated while at Balliol, says a writer in 
the "Gentleman's Magazine" for 1790, drove him into retirement, 
and retirement fortified his love of study. Perhaps his some- 
what ungainly Northern manners suggested a certain kind of 
rudeness or neglect. His frequent absence of mind, too, was 
a temptation which neither fellow-students nor attendants could 
resist. The first day he dined at Balliol a servitor, seeing him 



ADAM SMITH. 5 I 

neglect his dinner, asked him to " fall to, for he had never seen 
such a piece of beef in Scotland." The recollection of this in 
his prosperous latter days, when living in hospitable style at 
Edinburgh, always used to call forth a smile whenever a similar 
piece of beef was brought to table, and would generally lead 
to his repeating the anecdote. Another reason why he did 
not care to enter the Church was that while at Oxford he had 
fallen in with the doctrines of some of the French writers, 
especially Voltaire, on the subject of religion. 

The idea of taking orders having been finally abandoned, 
the next suggestion towards a profession — for he had no patri- 
mony — was as a travelling tutor. But though a good scholar 
and of unblemished moral character, his manners were not quite 
what they should be ; so for some time this intention was set 
aside, and in 1750 he opened a class for teaching rhetoric in 
Edinburgh. From this he was called in the following year 
to the chair of logic, and shortly afterwards to that of moral 
philosophy in the University of Glasgow. Here his English 
training proved of essential service. Although inferior in 
classical learning to his predecessor, the celebrated Dr. Hutche- 
son, yet in pronunciation and style he is said to have been 
much thought of, as superior to the usual standard of the 
Scotch universities. His recluse habits during the seven years' 
residence in Oxford had enabled him to master the works 
of the French encyclopaedists, and he had learned to think of 
Hume " as by far the greatest philosopher that the world had 
ever produced." His admiration and affection for Hume lasted 
throughout life. Of Dr. Johnson, his no less equally distin- 
guished contemporary, his opinion was not quite so flattering. 
In one of his lectures he thus refers to the mighty lexicogra- 
pher : " Of all writers, ancient or modern, he that keeps off 
the greatest distance from common sense is Dr. Samuel John- 
son." Of course the amiable dictionarian returned his opinion 
with interest. In the "Edinburgh Review," for October, 1840, 
is related an anecdote of the interview between the paper 
warriors. " Some of our friends," said Adam Smith, " were 
anxious that we should meet, and a party was arranged for the 



52 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

purpose. In the course of the evening I was seen entering 
another society, and perhaps with a manner a little confused. 
' Have you met Dr. Johnson?' my friends exclaimed. 'Yes, I 
have.' ' And what passed between you ? ' ' Immediately on my 
being introduced he addressed me, " Dr. Smith, how came you 
to say that Hume ' was nearly the best man you ever knew ' ? " 
' Because he was so,' I answered. ' Sir,' he replied, ' you lie.' 
'And what,' said they, ' was your answer?'" For the answer 
we must refer to the volume quoted. 

Dr. Johnson had really said, " that detestable infidel, Hume," 
which of course considerably nettled his countryman and friend. 
But then the Doctor was always heavy upon the Scotch. 

In course of time Dr. Smith's lectures became much talked 
of for their originality and interesting style, and visitors were 
attracted to look in whilst staying in the neighborhood. Among 
these was the Right Honorable Charles Townshend, who had 
married the Lady Dalkeith ; and he at once proposed to Smith 
that he should resign his professorship and undertake the office 
of travelling tutor to the young Duke of Buccleuch. It so hap- 
pened, while Mr. Townshend was at Glasgow, that the Doctor, 
who took a lively interest in manufactures, invited the English- 
man to inspect the tanneries. They were standing on a plank 
laid across one of the tan-pits, and the Doctor, talking warmly 
on his favorite topic, quite forgot the precarious nature of his 
footing, and plunged headlong into the nauseous pool. He 
was dragged out, stripped, covered with blankets, and carried 
home in a sedan-chair. 

On his leaving the university he summoned all the students 
in his classes together; and as the censor called out their names 
he returned their fees, saying that as he had not completed the 
course he was not entitled to the payment. He then handed 
over the manuscript of the lectures to one of the elder students, 
requesting him to complete the course. And this was actually 
done. As a rule he would never allow any notes to be taken 
of his lectures, lest they should be transcribed and published. 

He travelled with the Duke two years, and soon after his 
return published his " Inquiry into the Causes of the Wealth of 



ADAM SMITH. 53 

Nations," which was originally published in 1766. The book 
at first was by no means popular, which is no wonder, for it is 
not a popular sort of book. It was brought into notice by a 
remark made by Fox in the House of Commons. During his 
residence at Glasgow Dr. Smith published his " Theory of Moral 
Sentiments," of which the first edition appeared in 1759. The 
honorary degree of LL. D. was conferred upon him by the 
university in acknowledgment of his distinction as a professor, 
but he never assumed the title in private life. While in Paris, 
he became acquainted with most of the distinguished literary 
men of the time. Among them were D'Alembert, Helvetius, 
Marmontel, Necker, and Quesnay. 

In 1788, through the influence of the Duke of Buccleuch, 
Smith was appointed one of the Commissioners of Customs for 
Scotland, on which he removed to Edinburgh, where he spent 
the remainder of his life. His closing years were passed in tran- 
quillity, amid a small circle of friends, who generally supped 
with him every Sunday. His mother resided with him until 
her death in 1784; and her loss and that of his cousin, who had 
been his housekeeper, probably hastened his death, which took 
place in July, 1790. 

The great personal characteristics of Dr. Adam Smith w T ere 
his generosity and absence of mind. The former has already 
been indicated in the manner in which he returned the students' 
fees on resigning his professorship. Perhaps his slipping into 
the tan-pit was an instance of the latter. But his obliviousness 
to the most ordinary occurrences which transpired around him 
was notorious. It seems curious that a man who could write so 
well on practical matters, and could handle the question of 
finances in so masterly a manner, should himself have been a 
most unpractical man. His friend and biographer, Dugald 
Stewart, says, " He was certainly not fitted for the general com- 
merce of the world or for the business of active life." His 
acts of private charity far exceeded what might have been sup- 
posed to be the extent of his means. His integrity and truthful- 
ness were without a stain. Indeed, the only serious blemish in 
his truly excellent and upright life was his avowed participation 



54 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

in the religious opinions of his friend David Hume, for which 
Dr. Johnson was so angry with him. 

The work by which he is best known, " An Inquiry into the 
Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations," has been fre- 
quently reprinted. The best edition is that of M'Culloch. It 
overthrew the errors of the mercantile theory, that money was 
wealth; those of the agricultural theory, that land was the only 
source of wealth ; and established the principle that the true 
source of wealth was labor. He shows, in opposition to the 
opinions popular among merchants, politicians, and even states- 
men in his own time, that wealth does not consist in the abun- 
dance of gold and silver, but in the abundance of the various 
necessaries, conveniences, and enjoyments of life. His errors — 
for of course in so extensive a work it would be impossible to 
escape error at times — lean towards the theories of the French 
economists. For example, he imagines a distinction between in- 
dividual and social or national aSvantage, and admits that the 
two do not always coincide. But it is clear that as the nation 
is but an aggregate of individuals, the individual benefit must 
be that of the nation ; provided, of course, that the individual 
benefit is not confined to certain persons and withheld from 
others. A complete criticism and analysis of this celebrated 
and valuable work may be found in M'Culloch's " Introductory 
Discourse;" and the best way to read it will be under the guid- 
ance of that able and clear-headed expositor and commentator. 
Our business now is as much with the man as with the author, 
though his world-wide reputation is due to his books ; and, as a 
man, we know that he had the utmost and most outspoken con- 
tempt for whatever was malicious, hypocritical, or mean. As a 
writer he labored incessantly to promote the best interests of 
mankind. 




OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 



55 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 

[Born 1728. Died 1774.] 

HIGH among the literary celebrities of the last century- 
stands forth the name of Oliver Goldsmith. The subject 
of the present sketch was born on the 29th of November, 1728, 
the second son of a poor Irish curate, whose character he has 
so affectionately and graphically described in his " Deserted 
Village." The rudiments of his education were received from 
an old soldier, who had been a quartermaster in the wars of 
Queen Anne, and who kept a humble school in the village 
of which Oliver's father was minister. The character of this 
eccentric worthy, depicted in the " Deserted Village," is unri- 
valled, and is perhaps the finest thing of the kind that Goldsmith 
has left behind him. The old soldier, from all accounts, appears 
to have been a man of considerable ability, teeming with humor, 
and possessed of peculiar talents in relating romantic adven- 
tures and amusing anecdotes. To the latter circumstance some 
persons attribute the predilection which his pupil exhibited in 
later years for a wandering and unsettled life. As a child Gold- 
smith is reported to have been a general butt of ridicule for his 
ugliness and supposed stupidity ; however, as regards the latter 
reproach, he could not have suffered long, having already at 
a childish age vindicated his intellectual place by the verses 
which opened to him an academic destination. 

From the village school Goldsmith was transferred to an 
academy at Elphin, where, however, he did not continue long. 
Some relations of his uncle, convinced ofthe lad's abilities and 
being aware of his parents' small means, raised a subscription 
among themselves, and resolved to provide him with a liberal 
education. In furtherance of this plan he was sent to a school 



56 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

at Athlone, and afterwards to Edgeworthstown, in Longford, 
the principal of this seminary being the Rev. Patrick Hughes, 
to whom, as Goldsmith himself confesses, he was indebted for 
much valuable instruction. At the age of sixteen, after hav- 
ing completed the usual curriculum of study, he was admitted 
a sizar of Trinity College, Dublin. His troubles now com- 
menced. The tutor under whose care he was placed was a 
Mr. Wilder, a man noted for his harshness, rigid discipline, and 
violent passion, totally unfitted for the charge of such a pupil 
as Goldsmith proved. The following anecdote is given as 
showing the relations which existed between them. Oliver, 
who was always fond of a little conviviality, had invited a num- 
ber of persons of both sexes to be present at a dance and sup- 
per in his chambers. Wilder, either incensed by this breach 
of discipline or roused by some other provocation, rushed into 
the room where the assembled revellers were enjoying them- 
selves, struck Goldsmith before all his guests, whom he drove 
from the college without ceremony or apology. Oliver, exas- 
perated by this treatment, in a violent passion, pawned all his 
books, fled from Dublin to "Cork, whence, having spent all his 
money, he proceeded on a rambling tour through the country. 
At last, convinced of his folly in continuing this kind of life, he 
made his condition known to his family. In the meantime, a 
reconciliation with Wilder having been effected through the 
influence of his elder brother, Goldsmith returned to the uni- 
versity, where he continued to reside until he obtained the 
degree of B. A. About this period he was strongly pressed to 
enter the Church, which he stoutly refused to do ; but, being 
without resources, accepted the post of tutor in a private 
family. Having saved about £30 in this occupation, Goldsmith 
bought a horse, and proceeded on another of his wild rambles. 
However, in about six weeks' time, after having gone through 
the most ludicrous adventures, he appeared at his mother's 
house, mounted on a most wretched little pony, and without a 
halfpenny in his pocket. The following is one among many 
anecdotes which are related of his generosity and kindness of 
heart during this tour: — 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 57 

" Recollecting that one of his college friends, who had often pressed. 
him to spend a summer at his house, lived on the road not far from 
Cork, he determined to pay him a visit, and had no doubt of obtaining 
all the assistance he wanted. On the way to his friend's house he met 
with a poor woman, who implored relief for herself and eight children, 
their father having been seized for rent and thrown into jail. Ever 
alive to the feelings of humanity, Oliver gave the woman all that 
remained of his little stock, and trusted his own necessities to the 
generosity of his dear friend." 

Goldsmith's father having died soon after, his uncle, the Rev. 
T. Contarine, sent his nephew up to London to qualify himself 
for the legal profession, a purpose which Oliver himself thwarted 
by gambling away all his money and returning home penni- 
less. After this he proceeded to Edinburgh to prepare for 
the medical profession, and having passed two years in the me- 
tropolis of Scotland repaired to Leyden, intending to complete 
his studies. Now ensued a series of the most romantic adven- 
tures and strange vicissitudes that ever man has undergone. 
However, as he himself has related them in his " Philosophic 
Vagabond," it is not necessary to enter here into any details 
concerning this period of his life. Suffice it to say, he at length 
obtained a medical degree at Padua, and returned to England 
in the year 1756. Arrived in London, he was for sometime a 
chemist's assistant, then an usher in an academy at Peckham, — 
a post of great wretchedness and the most painful drudgery. 
However, a change for the better took place in Goldsmith's 
fortunes about this time. He was enabled, through the gen- 
erosity of an old college friend, to set up in practice as a 
physician ; but he soon gave this up, and, after failing to obtain 
an appointment as a hospital master, threw up the medical 
profession in disgust, and henceforth devoted himself entirely 
to literature. The extreme ease with which he wrote, the ver- 
satility of his talents, his varied and curious information, all 
combined to render his services most valuable to the London 
publishers. Hence his income must at times have been con- 
siderable ; but his reckless generosity and his improvidence 
rendered him entirely incapable of husbanding his resources or 



58 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

of providing for the future. Thence his difficulties, — one day- 
dressed like a fine gentleman, the next day in rags. 

After being engaged for some time in hack work for the 
periodicals, he appeared as an author on his own account, and 
in 1761 was written the "Vicar of Wakefield," — "the finest 
model of fictitious composition on which the human mind was 
ever employed," although it was not published till five years 
afterwards, so little was it appreciated by its purchaser. The 
singular circumstances under which this inimitable novel was 
composed, and sold by Dr. Johnson for £60, are related in Bos- 
well's " Life of Johnson." "I received one morning," Johnson 
long afterwards told Boswell, " a message from poor Goldsmith 
that he was in great distress, and as it was not in his power to 
come to me, begging that I would come to him as soon as pos- 
sible. I sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him 
directly. I accordingly went as soon as I was dressed, and 
found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent, at which 
he was in a violent passion. I perceived that he had already 
changed my guinea, and had got a bottle of Madeira and a 
glass before him. I put the cork into the bottle, desired he 
would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by 
which he might be extricated. He then told me that he had a 
novel ready for the press, which he produced to me. I looked 
into it and saw its merit, told the landlady I should soon return, 
and, having gone to a bookseller, sold it for £60. I brought 
Goldsmith the money, and he discharged his rent, not without 
rating his landlady in a high tone for using him so ill." 

The year 1766 witnessed the production of the "Traveller," a 
delightful poem, which established the author's popularity and 
smoothed his way to the highest poetical honors. Two or 
three years before this had appeared his well-known work, the 
" Citizen of the World." The " Traveller " was followed by 
that pleasing ballad, the " Hermit," and the comedy of the 
" Good-natured Man." Goldsmith had taken great pains in the 
composition of this play, and had also ventured in it to differ 
from the popular taste. The kind of comedy most in vogue at 
that time was "genteel comedy" or "sentimental trash;" and 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 59 

the theatre managers and critics had a special horror of any- 
thing which might be considered low or too broadly farcical. 
Garrick, whether on this account or for other reasons, did not 
care about the work ; but at length, after much delay, it was 
given into the hands of Colman, the Covent Garden manager. 
Colman, too, appeared in no great hurry to bring it before the 
public, and it was not until the 29th of January, 1768, during 
which period Goldsmith had been driven to his alternative of 
compiling to supply his immediate wants, that he had the satis- 
faction of seeing his comedy on the boards. One can hardly 
say satisfaction. Colman had been diffident of its success from 
the very first; the actors for the most part were cool about 
it ; the audience during a great part of its representation exhib- 
ited the most supreme indifference. At the famous scene of the 
bailiffs the partisans of genteel comedy in the pit could no 
longer restrain themselves, and vented their disapproval in 
hisses and cries of " Low ! " " Low ! " but at the fourth scene 
the tide of popular favor turned, and roars of laughter were 
heard from every part of the theatre. Goldsmith, who was in 
the house with Johnson, Burke, and others, had all this time 
been suffering dreadfully. It was club night; but though he 
went when all was over and seemed in riotously high spirits, it 
was but make-believe. "All the while," he said, telling the 
story aftenvards at a dinner-table, " I was undergoing horrid 
tortures, and verily believe that if I had put a bit into my 
mouth it would have strangled me on the spot, I was so exces- 
sively ill ; but I made more noise than usual to cover all that, 
and so they never perceived my not eating, nor, I believe, at all 
imagined to themselves the anguish of my heart. But when all 
were gone except Johnson here, I burst out a-crying, and even 
swore that I would never write again." " All which, Doctor," 
said Johnson, who had been listening with amazement to this 
frank public confession of Goldy, " I thought had been a secret 
between you and me ; and I am sure I would not have said a 
word about it for the world." The comedy might, however, be 
pronounced a success. It ran a due number of nights, and 
brought Goldsmith ^300 or £400. Johnson, indeed, who had 



60 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

written the prologue, and stood manfully by it all through, 
declared that it was the best comedy that had been produced 
since the " Provoked Husband." 

At length, in 1770, appeared his most charming poem, the 
" Deserted Village." Its natural elegance, simplicity, and pa- 
thos won all hearts ; and the poet's genius and worth were now 
fully appreciated. Besides these productions, Goldsmith wrote 
many other works in both prose and verse, all of them distin- 
guished by that simplicity and easy flow which is so charac- 
teristic of all his writings. In 1773 he again appeared as a 
dramatic author by bringing out his agreeable play, " She 
Stoops to Conquer," the plot of which is founded on an amus- 
ing adventure which the author himself had while travelling in 
Ireland, when he mistook a gentleman's house for an inn. 
Among our poet's last publications was a " History of the Earth 
and Animated Nature," a work which realized £850. 

But now Goldsmith's adventures and checkered career were 
drawing to an end. He had for some years been suffering 
from a constitutional disease, induced by severe application. 
Being also subject to lowness of spirits, he was attacked by a 
nervous fever, of which he died, April 4, 1774, at the early age 
of forty-five. His remains were interred in the Temple burial- 
ground, and a marble monument was erected to his memory in 
Westminster Abbey, the Latin inscription on it being written 
by Dr. Johnson. As we gather from testimony, — 

" In person Goldsmith was short, about five feet five or six inches ; 
strong, but not heavy in make ; rather fair in complexion, with brown 
hair. His features were plain, but not repulsive, — certainly not so when 
lighted up by conversation. His manners were simple, natural, and per- 
haps on the whole unpolished. He was always cheerful and animated, 
entered with spirit into ■ convivial society, to the enjoyments of which he 
contributed largely by solidity of information and the ?ia'ivete and origi- 
nality of his character ; talked often without Dremeditation, and laughed 
loudly without restraint." 

Goldsmith, indeed, was one whose character it is impossi- 
ble not to love, even while condemning its glaring blemishes. 




WILLIAM COWPER. 



WILLIAM COWPER. 6l 

When he was a man, and up to the end of his life, he possessed 
much of the simplicity of childhood. Both as a prose writer 
and as a poet he has won a name which will last as long as the 
English language itself. 

The man speaks to us of men as men. He touches the 
chords of sympathy which connect man to his fellows. It 
may be that he is not so grand as those who have preceded 
or succeeded him; but he is domestic, and adorns each subject 
that he has touched. 



WILLIAM COWPER. ' 

[Born 1731. Died 1S00.] 

TT would be comparatively safe to hazard a guess that for 
-*- every ten Englishmen who have read Pope's version of 
Homer's " Iliad," not one has read Cowper's elegant translation 
of the same epic. There is, however, no more simple or certain 
method by which to demonstrate the superiority of the latter 
work, and to indicate the kind of influence which Cowper ex- 
ercised on the poetic literature of this country, than to quote 
in comparison a passage from each of these great men. In the 
eighth book of the "Iliad" there is a description of Night, which 
in the original Greek extends to five lines. Pope's rendering 
of this description has been quoted ad nauseam, as a brilliant 
instance of grandeur and felicity of diction. Sonorous and 
full of color it no doubt is. But sound is not the only consid- 
eration in poetry, and the color is glaring and false. This is 
Pope : — 

" As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, 
O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light; 
When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, 
And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene ; 
Around her throne the vivid planets roll, 
And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole ; 



62 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, 
And tipt with silver every mountain's head ; 
Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise, 
A flood of glory bursts from all the skies ; 
The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, 
Eye the blue vault and bless the useful light." 

Here, indeed, is a description of night such as is not justified 
by any manual of astronomy in the world, and which does the 
greatest violence to the simple dignity of the original. Cow- 
per's translation of the same passage is as follows : — 

" As when around the clear bright moon the stars 
Shine in full splendor, and the winds are hushed, 
The groves, the mountain-tops, the headland heights, 
Stand all apparent ; not a vapor streaks 
The boundless blue, but aether opened wide 
All glitters, and the shepherd's heart is cheered. 1 ' 1 

No amount of criticism could more satisfactorily denote the 
poetic position of Cowper than this comparison. His history 
marks the commencement of a literary reform. He led the way 
for the Wordsworth of a later time. Chaste, refined, but for- 
cible, his style was utterly opposed to the artificial in verse. 
About his descriptions there is nothing tawdry, about his 
sentiment nothing mawkish, about his ethics nothing offensive. 
Daphne and Chloe had been piped to in neatly turned odes. 
Cowper finds at home a theme as inspiring as any in the 
classical dictionaries, and his " Verses to his Mother's Picture " 
will ever be ranked by critics of taste as one of the most exqui- 
site and pathetic compositions in the language. Other poets 
found subjects for their wit in topics and persons of the hour, 
and these ballads smelt of the coffee-house and the green-room. 

1 This passage has been translated by Tennyson as follows : — 

" As when in heaven the stars about the moon 
Look beautiful, when all the winds are laid, 
And every height comes out, and jutting peak 
And valley, and the immeasurable heavens 
Break open to the highest, and all the stars 
Shine, and the shepherd gladdens in his heart." 



WILLIAM COWPER. 6$ 

But the simple story of John Gilpin will survive hundreds of 
the smartest satires that ever tickled the town. 

William Cowper was born in the year 1 73 1 . His father 
was the Rev. Dr. John Cowper, a royal chaplain and rector 
of Great Berkhampstead, in Hertfordshire, at which place the 
subject of this biography saw the light. The grandfather of 
the future poet was a judge, and his great-uncle was a Lord 
Chancellor, — circumstances which, no doubt, suggested the law 
as the most likely profession for William. Patronage in those 
days was a family virtue largely exercised, and if the author of 
the " Task " had exhibited any particular aptitude for his pro- 
fession he would, no doubt, have happened upon some of the 
prizes so eagerly desired by men of law. To his early training 
the student must turn for the cause of that pathos, chastity, and 
religion conspicuous in his compositions. Young Cowper's 
early tutor was his mother. At her knee he learned the infinite 
beauty of a pure life ; from her lips he received the first prin- 
ciples of morality. W T hen he was only six years of age a 
darkness fell upon his life. His mother died, and a permanent 
sadness became one of his most noticeable characteristics. 

Swift upon this terrible blow followed another. Shortly after 
his bereavement he was sent to a boarding-school in Market 
Street. Here he was handed over to the tender mercies of an 
older boy, who for two years brutally ill-treated him, and to the 
sadness occasioned by the death of his mother added a nervous- 
ness which became part of his nature, and which eventually 
developed into the awful malady which first attacked him in 
1763, and at intervals fell upon him till 

" God's finger touched him and he slept." 

From the Market Street academy and the brutal persecution 
of a bully he was in the fulness of time transferred to West- 
minster School, and, having spent seven years at that seat of 
learning, he entered an attorney's office, willing to be inducted 
into the involved mysteries of the law. In this office he had 
for fellow apprentice a youth named Thurlow, thereafter Lord 
High Chancellor of England. 



64 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

In 1754 Cowper was called to the bar, became enamored of 
life in the Temple, joined a club, and eventually fell in love 
with his cousin, — a passion which had an unfortunate issue, 
and developed that morbid timidity which was originally cre- 
ated by his early misfortunes. The influence of his legal 
relatives obtained for him a clerkship in the Lords ; but the 
excessive timidity with which he was afflicted led him to regard 
with terror the idea of his examination, and while preparing 
himself for this ordeal the fatal curse of insanity fell upon him. 
The " sweet bells jangled out of tune, and harsh." He was 
confined in a private madhouse for a year and a half. His was a 
religious mania, taking the form of a dread of death, — a certain 
looking for of judgment. This is the saddest episode in this sad 
career. Four times the awful shadow fell upon the ill-fated man 
at varying intervals and lasting for greater or lesser periods. 

On his recovery from the initial attack of insanity it was Cow- 
per's great good fortune to become intimate with a clergyman's 
family at Huntingdon. The cheerful influence of the Unwins, 
the home feeling which he experienced in this dwelling, ame- 
liorated his pains, and he continued to reside with them after the 
demise of the head of the house. But after a peaceful interval 
the awful malady returned, and for three years his reason 
remained under a cloud. It was on his recovery from this 
attack that he set himself to the serious business of versifying. 
Those who, putting a strained meaning upon the dictum of 
Horace — " poeta nascitur non fit " — would have the true poet 
utter poems in his teens, would no doubt be inclined to sneer at 
the bard who commenced his profession at the age of fifty. 
The precocious Pope, we know, at the age of twelve philosoph- 
ically warbled, — 

" Happy the man whose wish and care 
A few paternal acres bound." 

But the spirit of the child was in Cowper, and his composi- 
tions are as perfect as if he had spent a lengthened apprentice- 
ship to the art. His first efforts were recognized by no less 
an authority than Dr. Samuel Johnson, and there was nothing 
now for it but to become poet by profession. But the terrible 



WILLIAM COWPER. 6$ 

disorder again asserted itself, and, tended by kind friends, the 
old man's spirit was released on the 25th of April, 1800. 

Any exhaustive description of his works would be out of 
place here. His satires, " Truth," " Table Talk," " Expostula- 
tion," and other poems were chiefly composed in pentameter 
rhymes. His famous work, the " Task," was suggested to him 
by Lady Austin, and will forever remain a monument of his 
power. This was followed by the " Garden," the " Winter 
Evening," the "Winter Morning Walk," the "Winter Walk at 
Noon," compositions which for accuracy of description and 
daintiness of touch are quite without rivals. With the "Task" 
was published "Tirocinium," a poem in which the iniquities of 
public schools are set forth. In 1 791 appeared the author's 
translation of Homer; and a posthumous little poem called 
the " Castaway" makes the sum of his contributions to English 
literature, which he greatly enriched. 

Although the service rendered by Cowper to English litera- 
ture was great and peculiar, it is not altogether owing to his 
literary labors that he is included in this gallery of benefactors. 
He was an active philanthropist. His influence was naturally 
great among the more seriously minded of his countrymen. 
Where there were peaceful, godly families, charitably disposed, 
and taking part in movements of social reform, by those fami- 
lies he was honored as the favorite bard. This influence, acci- 
dentally acquired it may be, was thrown by the poet into the 
great cause of humanity. It was he who sang the wrongs of 
the slave ; and those who enthusiastically supported the efforts 
of Wilberforce found adequate expression in the polished verse 
of Cowper. Any estimate of Cowper, therefore, which confines 
itself to literary criticism is necessarily inadequate. An earnest 
and indefatigable lover of his species, he gave his moral sup- 
port to every institution which had for its object the elevation 
of the masses, the suppression of wrong, or the amelioration of 
pain. When he sang to " charity," he celebrated that which 
was the chief component of his own nature. 

"Who seeks to praise them, and to make them known 
To other hearts, must have them in his own." 
5 



66 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

His works are a reflex of all that is best in man's nature. 
His philosophy is that of a Christian philanthropist. 

William Cowper must ever be recognized as one of the most 
notable figures of his time, whether we have regard to the ex- 
tent of his influence, the purity of his mind, the singularity of 
his misfortune, or the quality of his genius. 



HANNAH MORE. 

[Born 1745. Died 1833.] 

ALTHOUGH the present century has been remarkable for 
the number of women who have joined the band of those 
whose lives are spent in efforts to ameliorate the condition of 
their fellow creatures, not one has arisen whose work and influ- 
ence can be said to have eclipsed the name of Hannah More, — 
a name which still remains a household word, even with those 
who take but little interest in the works of charity and benevo- 
lence which have made that name so familiar. 

The youngest but one of five daughters, Hannah More was 
born at Stapleton, near Bristol, in 1745. Her father a school- 
master, and her sisters also conducting a school, she acquired 
her education under home influence ; and so early did she 
attain extraordinary proficiency in her studies, that her father, 
as he expressed himself, became frightened at his own success. 
At sixteen years of age she attracted the notice of Mr. Sheri- 
dan, who much admired the dawning and budding genius of 
the talented and amiable girl. It was at this time also that she 
commenced her career as an authoress ; and so well received 
and appreciated were her literary productions, that Dr. John- 
son, on her introduction to him a few years later, accosted her 
by repeating a verse from a Morning Hymn of her own writing. 
About this time her tender and delicate mind received a shock 




HANNAH MORE. 



HANNAH MORE. 67 

which it was feared would imbitter the future course of her 
life; but fortunately this did not happen. A gentleman who 
was in every way worthy of her had gained her affections and 
the promise of her hand. The marriage day was fixed, but for 
some reasons which have never been explained the gentleman 
receded from his promise. It is but fair, however, to state that 
he subsequently renewed his offer, and on being refused made 
all the reparation in his power by securing to her (contrary to 
her wishes and without her knowledge at the time) an annual 
sum sufficient to enable her to devote herself to literary 
pursuits. 

At the house of Sir Joshua Reynolds, an early friend, she 
became acquainted with all the leading and celebrated charac- 
ters o£ the day, and by these her talents were duly appreciated ; 
but applause and admiration caused no change in the natural 
simplicity of her manners. She still retained her usual amia- 
bility, — a quality which had been from childhood the most 
noticeable feature in her character. 

The unexpected death of Garrick, with whom and Mrs. 
Garrick she passed much of her time when in London, made 
such an impression upon her mind that Hannah More's better 
feelings were aroused, and she determined thenceforward to 
devote to her Maker's service the splendid talents with which 
He had endowed her. 

Her Essays soon after made their appearance, and several 
poems quickly succeeded, all of them attracting general atten- 
tion. The genuine characteristics of her mind began now to 
display themselves, and, wearied with scenes of gayety, she 
longed for the tranquillity of retirement ; and with this view she 
removed to a residence near Bristol, spending only a portion of 
the year in London. 

From this retirement she sent forth several works having for 
their object the improvement in the manners and conduct of 
those in high places. That entitled "An Estimate of the 
Religion of the Fashionable World" produced a very great 
effect. In it she has expatiated in a very free manner on 
the prevailing corruptions, the absence of religion from the 



68 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

education of the higher classes, and has shown how much the 
conduct and manners of the poorer classes are affected by the 
example of those above them. 

In 1789 Hannah More's sisters retired from the school they 
had so long conducted, and for the remainder of their lives 
devoted themselves and their means to furthering the efforts of 
their talented sister in establishing schools for the poor in the 
neighborhood of their home. The deplorable ignorance and 
depravity of the poor at that time we can now scarcely realize, 
neither can we understand that, in their first attempts to estab- 
lish a school, these ladies should have met with resistance from 
the wealthier portion of the community. The first school was 
opened at Cheddar ; and so successful was it that Mrs. More 
was encouraged to set up others in the neighborhood^ and 
many were established, some of them at a considerable dis- 
tance from her residence. The schools, and the various clubs 
which were established in connection with them in the different 
villages, were continually visited by Hannah More and sisters ; 
and such were the fruits of their labors, that even those who 
had been most bitter in their persecution were fain to admit 
that a reformation had been effected in a district previously 
notorious for its almost heathenish degradation and vice. 

Notwithstanding the time and attention which this work 
entailed upon her, Hannah More still continued her literary 
labors. To counteract the revolutionary principles which were 
spreading amongst the lower classes towards the close of the 
last century, a series of tracts were written by her, notably a 
little work entitled " Village Politics." This, and others of sim- 
ilar import were gladly received, and the Government of the 
day distributed thousands of copies throughout the country. 

It is impossible here to enumerate the many works which, 
proceeded from her pen; but there is one which, although of 
a different nature from her usual productions, will always be 
associated with her name. This is entitled " Caelebs in Search 
of a Wife." So extraordinary was the popularity of this work, 
that eleven editions passed through the press within nine 
months after its first publication. 



: 




MARIA EDGEWORTH. 



MARIA EDGEWORTH. 69 

From her writings Hannah More obtained a considerable in- 
come, but all was devoted to the charitable work which she 
had undertaken ; indeed, her beneficence was such, that some 
few years before her death her means were so reduced that it 
was necessary for her to dispose of her little estate, known as 
Barley Wood. To do this was a great trial, as her home there 
had become endeared to her by the remembrance of past 
scenes. The death-place of all her sisters, it had been her 
wish that in it she also might end her days. 

Her health, which had long been precarious, began soon 
after to fail. A year before her death her faculties also became 
dimmed, and at Clifton, on the 7th of September, 1833, she 
quietly and calmly breathed her last. 

Mrs. More, who was in her eighty-ninth year when she died, 
must be acknowledged as one of the most illustrious of Eng- 
lishwomen. To splendid talents were united excellent sense, 
and a piety which showed its genuine nature in the universal 
beneficence which characterized her useful life. Prayer was 
with her to the last ; and when her memory had failed her in 
other respects, she could remember and frequently repeated 
portions of Scripture, and particularly those which had sus- 
tained her during her long and meritorious life. 



MARIA EDGEWORTH. 

[Born 1767. Died 1849.] 

A MONG those women whose works have gained for them a 
■**■ position in the literary annals of their country, and who 
by the purity of their writings have contributed much to the 
moral and intellectual well-being of their readers, the name of 
Maria Edgeworth stands prominently forth. 

This gifted lady was the daughter, by his first wife, of Rich- 
ard Lovell Edgeworth, of Edgeworthstown, County Longford, 



70 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Ireland. She was born at Hare Hatch, Berkshire, in the year 
1767. In 1782, when Maria was about fifteen years old, the 
family returned to Ireland, where, with the exception of a few 
occasional visits to England, Scotland, and France, she resided 
for the remainder of her long and useful life. Her education 
was personally conducted by her father, who enthusiastically 
devoted himself to the intellectual improvement of all his chil- 
dren. The neighborhood of Edgeworthstown did not afford 
much congenial society, the only persons they visited being the 
Earl of Longford, at Pakenham Hall, the Earl of Granard, at 
Castle Forbes, and a Mr. Brookes. Pakenham Hall was twelve 
miles distant, with, as she herself informs us, " a Serbonian bog 
between, an awkward ferry, and a country so forlorn with yel- 
low woods that it was aptly called by Mrs. Greville ' the yellow 
dwarfs country.' " 

Miss Edgeworth quickly displayed signs of unusual genius, 
and at an early age was selected by her father as his business 
factotum, while his office of magistrate enabled her to obtain 
great insight into the native character, and to study more closely 
the peasant life around her. 

In most of her literary productions she had the advantage of 
her father's criticism. He was accustomed to observe, " It is 
my business to cut and correct; yours to write on." 

The first effort of her pen, entitled " Essays on Practical Edu- 
cation," was published in 1798. This work was the joint pro- 
duction of father and daughter. In 1801 there followed "Castle 
Rackrent," by which her fame as a national novelist was firmly 
established. The book is distinguished throughout for rollick- 
ing Irish humor, sound sense, and powerful delineations of 
character. In it we find Sir Condy lamenting that " he was very 
ill-used by the Government about a place which had been prom- 
ised him, but never given, after his supporting them against his 
conscience most honorably." 

"Belinda" and the "Essay on Irish Bulls" appeared soon 
after. The latter was written with the object of making English 
readers familiar with Irish humor and pathos. In this work 
also she had the assistance of her father's pen. Indeed, it is so 



MARIA EDGEWORTH. Ji 

evident that two minds were employed in its production that 
Miss Edgeworth, in writing her father's memoirs, confesses her 
inability to distinguish which were his, but adds that passages 
in which there are allusions to or quotations from the clas- 
sics must be his, as she was " totally ignorant of the learned 
languages." 

From 1803 to 1806 she gave to the world "Belinda," " Popu- 
lar Tales," and " Leonora," which has a rather painful plot. 

The first series of " Fashionable Tales" appeared in 1809, 
and were complete in 1812. These included " Ennui," the 
"Dun," "Manoeuvring," " Almeria," "Vivian," the "Absentee," 
" Madame de Fleury," and " Emilie de Coulanges." Among 
the best and most successful of the tales were " Ennui," and the 
" Absentee." 

" Ennui " is a most powerfully written novel. None other 
than a master hand could have portrayed such characters as 
" M'Leod, the cool and faithful Scotch agent, witty Lady Geral- 
dine, Christy, the blacksmith, Ellinor, the Irish foster nurse, 
who on one occasion remarked that ' if it pleased God she 
would like to die on Christmas day of all days, because the 
gates of heaven they say are open all that day, and who knows 
but a body might slip in unknownst ? ' " 

In the "Dun" is depicted, almost too painfully, the miseries 
which the poor suffer from their inability to obtain the money 
justly their due. The chief figure in " Manoeuvring " is Mrs. 
Beaumont, a clever scheming woman who attempts to marry her 
two children against their inclinations. All seems for a time to 
prosper with her, but in the end she is thoroughly outwitted, 
and all her petty deceit exposed. " Almeria" shows the debas- 
ing consequences produced by the passionate pursuit of fashion 
for its own sake, unredeemed by any ennobling feature. " Viv- 
ian " illustrates the terrible evil sometimes caused by indecision 
of character. Vivian, the undecided, brilliant young noble; 
Russel, the faithful tutor; Wharton, the unscrupulous politi- 
cian; self-willed Lord Glistonbury; prim Lady Glistonbury; 
and vivacious Lady Julia, — seem to start from the canvas. 

But the "Absentee" is considered by most judges to be Miss 



72 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Edgeworth's master-piece. Lord Macaulay observed that the 
scene in which Lord Colambre discovers himself to his father's 
tenants was " the best thing of its kind since the beginning of 
the twenty-second book of the ' Odyssey.' " While speaking of 
this work it will not be inappropriate to introduce a story which 
is told of the authoress. Miss Edgeworth was one afternoon 
making tea for her father. After allowing the liquid to " draw" 
for the requisite period of time, she proceeded to remove the 
cosey and to pour out a cupful for her father. To her intense 
astonishment pure water, without the slightest suspicion of the 
fragrant congou, issued from the spout of the teapot. " Ha, 
ha ! Maria," laughed Mr. Edgeworth, " there 's another of your 
Irish bulls." " No, father," she quickly replied, " it 's only 
absentee." " Madame de Fleury " was a French lady who 
established a school in Paris for neglected girls. Forced, on 
account of the Revolution, to take refuge in England, she was 
there maintained by her former pupils and was eventually 
enabled to return to France. " Emilie de Coulanges," a rather 
dry and uninteresting story, describes the lives led by two 
French refugees with Mrs. Somer, a lady afflicted with a very 
bad temper, yet with a kind heart at bottom. 

In 1814 she produced "Patronage," which was followed soon 
after by " Harrington," " Ormond," and " Comic Dramas," the 
last failing on the stage. 

" Ormond," an Irish tale, can vie with any of Miss Edge- 
worth's novels for general excellence. We read in it how a 
youth of naturally passionate temper and of neglected educa- 
tion eventually attained a true nobility of character. " King 
Corny," " Ormond," " Sir Ulick O'Shane," " Moriarty Carroll," 
" Dora," '.' Mansell O'Faley," are the work of a master*hand. 

In 1820, by the death of her father, Miss Edgeworth was 
summoned from novel-writing to fulfil the sacred duty of com- 
pleting his memoirs. 

A short time after this she paid a visit to Sir Walter Scott 
at Abbotsford, where she remained for a fortnight. This visit 
was returned by the celebrated novelist exactly two years 
afterwards. 



MARIA EDGEWORTH. 



73 



In 1834 she published "Helen," a novel of thrilling interest, 
in which she shows more maturity of judgment and greater 
knowledge of the different passions of the human mind than 
in any of her previous books. She manifested great interest 
in a correspondence which had, some years previously, taken 
place between her father and Thomas Day, as to the pro- 
priety of ladies engaging in literary work, in which the latter 
stoutly maintained the opposition. It was for the purpose 
of answering his objections and confuting his arguments that 
she published the work entitled " Letters for Literary La- 
dies." Miss Edgeworth's tales for children have met with well- 
deserved commendation. They include " Rosamond," " Harry 
and Lucy," and " Orlandino." 

She was on terms of the greatest intimacy with the most dis- 
tinguished of her contemporaries. Scott entertained a feeling 
of the highest regard for her, and is reported to have expressed 
a desire to do the same for Scotland as Miss Edgeworth had 
done for Ireland. O'Connell lamented that a woman possess- 
ing so great influence did not serve Ireland as an agitator. 
Byron, in spite of his caustic remark about "Miss Edgeworth's 
novels stepping from their covers," greatly admired her writ- 
ings. " And Lord Macaulay was one of her most enthusias- 
tic worshippers." " Among all the instances connected with 
the publication of his history," says Mr. Trevelyan, " nothing 
pleased Macaulay better than the gratification he contrived to 
give Maria Edgeworth, as a small return for the enjoyment 
which during a period of more than forty years he had derived 
from her charming writings." 

So great, indeed, was his admiration for her, that in his history 
he mentioned her in a note, in which he characterizes her delin- 
eation of King Corny in " Ormond " as " that admirable por- 
trait." How gratifying the praise of so great a writer must 
have been to Miss Edgeworth is shown in a letter written a 
short time afterwards to an intimate friend, in which she speaks 
of " the self-satisfaction, vanity, pride, surprise, I had in finding 
my own name in a note." This highly talented and amiable 
woman peacefully departed this life May 21, 1849, after having 



74 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

lived to see her works obtain a place in the first ranks of Eng- 
lish literature. 

Miss Edgeworth's novels are distinguished for the genial 
humor which runs through them, for sobriety of judgment, for 
the vivacious and perfectly natural dialogues which are intro- 
duced, and above all for the admirably drawn character studies 
with which all her works abound. Some critics have found 
fault with her novels as being too didactic to please as fiction 
should please. But Miss Edgeworth was professedly a moral 
writer, and never if possible let slip an opportunity of enforcing 
on the reader's attention some important moral precept. 

As a national novelist and a depictor of the more humble 
phases of life she yields the palm to Sir Walter Scott only; 
while as a practical moral teacher she stands alone among nov- 
elists. And last but not least among the many qualities which 
claim for her a right to be considered as a public benefactor 
are her noble and pure character, her kindness of heart, ever 
keenly alive to the call of suffering humanity, and the numerous 
domestic virtues which brightened and adorned the peaceful 
and happy home of which she was the centre. 



WALTER SCOTT. 

[Born 1771. Died 1832.] 

A LTHOUGH the novels of the latter end of the last century 
-^*- often displayed abilities of the highest order in con- 
struction, in individuality, and in dramatic power, yet they were 
tinged with a tone of immorality which has almost consigned 
them to oblivion except to the student of literature. Fielding 
and Smollett's works (with others) are seldom or never found 
now on the ordinary family book-shelves. It is only with 
regard to the GOOD qualities they developed, mentioned above, 
that they are even acceptable to the student. Between the 







■if 


IB 


w , w 


Hi 

111 









WALTER SCOTT. 



WALTER SCOTT. 75 

time of which we speak and the appearance of the novel of 
" Waverley," the novel of the period was but a poor affair, — 
poor in fact in every respect, generally weak in plot and in con- 
struction, — and, to use a common expression, the work was 
but twaddle. 

Walter Scott, the son of a writer to the signet, which is equiv- 
alent to being an attorney in England, was born in Edinburgh 
in 1 771, and, having received a good education, was himself in 
1792 made an advocate of the Scottish bar. His father was 
able to allow him a handsome income, and he began life in a 
style very different from the starting of the typical poet. But 
he made no progress in his own profession. The law had no 
fascination for him, and the wonder is that it has any fascination 
for anybody. 

Although an eloquent speaker he had not a forensic mind, 
and having, in 1799, through the powerful influence of the 
Duke of Buccleugh, obtained the Crown Office appointment of 
Sheriff of Selkirkshire, to which was attached the salary of 
.£300 per year, he devoted his attention to literature. 

He had reached nearly his twenty-fifth year before he showed 
any of those talents which eventually distinguished him as the 
leading writer of his age. He himself says that during the last 
ten years of the eighteenth century poetry had fallen to a very 
low level, and he describes the wonderful excitement produced 
in literary circles by some translations of the German ballad 
school, especially of Burger's " Leonore," and also the effect of 
them on his own mind. He resolved to " rush into print," and 
accordingly produced in 1796 some German translations ai\d 
the "Wild Huntsman" in a thin quarto volume, which, like a 
great many first attempts, failed. But, like numberless other 
brave men who fail at first, he again wooed the muses, and after 
the publication of some small poems gave to the world the 
" Minstrelsy of the Border," the work which stamped him as a 
genius and as an excellent practical antiquary. 

This work was followed in 1805 by the celebrated poem, the 
" Lay of the Last Minstrel." Its originality, poetical beauty, 
and great power produced a wonderful effect on the public 



y6 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

mind. After this he published a series of poems, commencing 
with " Marmion " and finishing with " Harold the Dauntless." 

It was not until 1814 that the appearance of "Waverley" 
marked an event in the era of literature. Coming after the weak 
fashionable novel of the period, its free, graceful, natural, and 
manly style caused a deep sensation. As is well known, it was 
published anonymously; and for some years afterwards " By the 
author of ' Waverley ' " was on the titlepage of his novels. He 
produced them with astonishing rapidity, — as many as six or 
seven volumes annually; and the even greatness of the talent 
displayed in them is simply marvellous, let alone the grandeur 
of the construction and the dramatic force of the characters. 
The beauties of descriptions and the thorough naturalness dis- 
played all through are the charms and beauties that have 
endeared his works to so many thousands of readers. 

He rose rapidly to wealth and fame. He was created in 1820 
a baronet of the United Kingdom. He was surrounded by 
every earthly happiness it seems possible to enjoy, beloved in 
his domestic circle, adored by the peasantry, and standing on 
the proud pinnacle of fame. But there came a cruel change. 
In 1826 his principal publishers, Messrs. Constable and Com- 
pany, failed for an immense sum. It then became known that 
the great author was deeply involved to the amount of ;£i 20,000, 
by bill and other transactions with Messrs. Constable, of which 
barely half was incurred by himself. To his undying honor he 
undertook to pay off this immense debt without any deduction. 
He refused at the meeting of the creditors to accept any com- 
promise, and declared that if life and health were spared him 
he would meet the amount to the uttermost shilling. He in- 
sured his life in the favor of the estate for upwards of ^20,000, 
realized all the property he could (including the sale of his 
town house), then grappled with the Herculean task to sweep 
away the enormous debt. To add to his cup of sorrow, a 
month after the crash his wife was taken from him. 

For five or six years following the calamity did Sir Walter 
Scott continue his enormous labors, sending to the reading 
world eight or nine romances, the " Life of Napoleon," " His- 



WALTER SCOTT. yj 

tory of Scotland," " Tales of my Grandfather," " Letters on 
Demonology," etc. The profits on these were so great, that 
in 1830 more than £54,000 of the debt had been paid off. 
But the mental tension produced by the enormous exertion 
began to tell on even his robust frame; his hair turned as 
white as snow, he became dejecte.d, slight paralysis set in, and 
the springs of life began to give way. During 1831 he grew 
worse, and all mental exertion was forbidden. He was then 
ordered by his medical attendants to travel on the Continent. 
In the autumn of this year he sailed for Malta, but he was very 
loath to leave his beloved Scotland. The voyage produced 
favorable results; but after visiting Rome and Naples his in- 
tense longing for his native land was so great that he hurried 
home rapidly. But in his then state of health the haste with 
which he travelled was highly injurious. He had a severe 
attack of his disease in passing down the Rhine. 

Medical aid was of no avail. His ardent dying wish was 
to see once more his favorite Abbotsford. He was conveyed 
there on the nth of July, 1832, but was in such a pitiable con- 
dition that he no longer recognized those dear to him. He 
lingered in this state until the 21st of September, 1832, when 
he expired without a struggle. 

Thus died the great and good Walter Scott, whose pen 
has given and will give delight and instruction to thousands. 
Always pure, high-minded, and true to nature, his works can 
be placed in the hands of the youth of both sexes with advan- 
tage. There can be no doubt that his poems swept away the 
interminable nonsense anent Phillis and Chloe, and his novels 
the coarseness that disgraced the fictions of the last century. 



78 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



ROBERT SOUTHEY. 

[Born 1774. Died 1843] 

"D OBERT SOUTHEY was born at Bristol on the 12th of 
""-^- August, 1774. His parents, descended from good fami- 
lies of the county of Somerset, appear to have found it difficult 
to get on in the world, and the care and education of their 
son Robert was in consequence undertaken by his mother's 
maiden aunt, Miss Tyler. 

Of this lady Southey has, in his autobiography, given us 
a very interesting sketch. She appears to have been quite a 
celebrity in Bristol on account of her eccentricities and her 
passion for theatres and actors. To her Robert Southey was 
indebted for his familiarity with the drama, and very early in 
his boyhood he had read through Shakspeare and Beaumont 
and Fletcher. Even before going to Westminster School, 
which he entered in his fourteenth year, we find that so ardent 
was he in the pursuit of knowledge that he had mastered Spen- 
ser, and, through translations, Tasso and Ariosto, Ovid and 
Homer. Proceeding to Westminster School in 1787, Southey 
remained there four years, and was then dismissed, owing to 
a contribution from his pen which appeared in a small publi- 
cation set on foot by the boys. 

During his stay he formed some lifelong friendships, and to 
one, that with Mr. C. W. Wynn, Southey was indebted for an 
annuity for many years, until, in fact, provision was made for 
him by the Government. 

To the kindness of a maternal uncle he was indebted for 
the means of proceeding to the University of Oxford ; and 
he entered Balliol in 1793, the uncle's intention being that he 
should enter the Church. Southey's religious opinions were, 
however, not sufficiently decided to justify this, and he appears 



_~-^*^r -_> 






i 


^ 'W IRK 




^^^^^^^^^^^^ 



ROBERT SOUTHEY. 



ROBERT SOUTHEY. 79 

to have had a greater predilection for medicine ; but the dis- 
secting-room turned him against this also, and he soon after 
abandoned his university career and joined Coleridge, with whom 
he had formed an intimacy, at Bristol. With the two Burnett 
also lived ; and this trio, in conjunction with Robert Lovell and 
a few others, formed a plan — worthy of Robert Owen — to 
establish a society on the banks of the Ohio, and there in the 
New World establish a community on a thoroughly social basis. 
Money, or rather the want of it, seems to have prevented the 
actual attempt of the scheme, and Lovell's death put an end 
to their plans. 

For subsistence Southey commenced to give public lectures 
on history, and published his first work, " Joan of Arc," an epic 
of considerable length ; " a work," says Mr. Hazlitt, " in which 
the love of liberty is inhaled like the breath of spring." 

The uncle to whom he was so much indebted, becoming 
alarmed at what he considered the socialist opinions of his 
nephew, induced Southey to proceed to Lisbon, thinking that he 
would be weaned from his wild political sentiments as well as 
from what was believed to be an imprudent attachment. To 
gratify his friends Southey consented, but married Edith Fricker 
the morning of his departure. Returning from Lisbon at the 
end of six months, he took up his residence in London, entered 
himself at Gray's Inn, and for a year devoted himself to the 
study of law. Having no leaning in this direction, he gave up 
this study also, and joined Charles Lamb, Humphry Davy, 
and Coleridge in the publication of two volumes of poetry 
under the title of " Annual Anthology." In 1801 he obtained 
a position as private secretary to the Chancellor of the Excheq- 
uer in Ireland ; but, finding on his arrival in Dublin that the 
post was a sinecure, he gave it up and the salary in disgust. 

Returning to England, he settled at Greta, in Cumberland, 
and set to work for the booksellers ; and, what with prose and 
verse, the result of his labors was really marvellous. In 1806 
he was at the same time engaged in writing the " History of 
Portugal," " Espriella's Letters," and the " Curse of Kehama." 
Whether his works succeeded or failed, it was to him the same ; 



8o OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

his courage and perseverance never deserted him, and he relig- 
iously believed that future generations would recognize his 
talents. 

In 1807 he produced "Specimens of the Later English 
Poets " and " Palmerin of England ; " but his increased earnings 
were now devoted to the relief and maintenance of his wife's 
sister and her children. The wife and children of Coleridge 
also found a sanctuary in Southey's home; and many were the 
gifts to the unfortunate in the world of literature. 

In 18 1 3, on the death of Mr. Pye, the offer of the post of 
poet-laureate was, on Scott's suggestion, made to Southey, and 
by him accepted. 

For the remainder of his life the labor of Southey was inces- 
sant, but by degrees the happiness of his home was departing. 
First he loses a favorite child ; then his wife, to whom he was so 
devoted, was placed in a lunatic asylum. While suffering under 
this trying affliction he was offered a baronetcy by Sir Robert 
Peel, but the distinction was declined. 

In 1837 his beloved wife, who had returned to her home, 
died. After this Southey became an altered man. He says: 
" There is no one to partake with me the recollections of the 
best and happiest portions of my life, and for that reason such 
recollections must be painful except when I connect them with 
the prospect of futurity." To divert his mind he made a trip 
to the Continent, and in 1839 again .married ; but he never 
recovered the loss of his wife Edith. After that event all about 
him saw that his faculties had lost their vigor, and that a melan- 
choly decline had taken possession of him. Forty-five years of 
incessant toil had done its work, and his life for a year before 
his death was a mental blank. He died on the 21st of March, 
1843, and was buried in Crossthwaite Churchyard, where lie 
his beloved Edith and the children that preceded him. 

The socialistic and Utopian ideas which had marked South- 
ey's early life were abandoned long before his death, and he 
appears to have become thoroughly conservative in his opin- 
ions. His life has been described as a picture, the first sight 
of which elicits boundless satisfaction, frequent inspection 




CHARLES LAMB. 






CHARLES LAMB. 8 1 

qualifies delight, and a last parting look would seem to justify 
the early admiration. Commenting upon Southey's industry 
and generosity, another able writer has well said : " If biography 
be not utterly worthless, these illustrations of his character have 
an inestimable value. Look at him, pen in hand, the indefati- 
gable laborer in his literary seclusion, with no inheritance but 
a vigorous intellect, no revenue but such as his industry might 
furnish, perfect in the relation of husband, brother, father, 
friend; by his chosen labors delighting the world, as well as 
ministering to the happiness of his needy circle. Look, we 
say, and confess that heroism is here which conquerors might 
envy." 



CHARLES LAMB. 

[Born 1775. Died 1834] 

TN the National Portrait Gallery at South Kensington are 
-*■ three very remarkable portraits side by side. One is of 
a young man with a noticeable weakness of chin and extreme 
mobility of expression. Next to this hangs one of a " cast of 
face slightly Jewish," a rather delicately formed aquiline nose, 
and a somewhat prominent or, as it is often familiarly called, 
old-fashioned chin ; and next to this a face of a mould de- 
cidedly reminding the spectator of those ancient and remark- 
able people called Aztecs. The forehead is fairly developed, 
though somewhat retreating, the nose enormous but well- 
shaped, and the lips prominent and sensitive. They are the 
portraits of three intimate friends : the first, Samuel Taylor 
Coleridge ; the last, Robert Southey ; the middle one, Charles 
Lamb. They are taken at ages varying from twenty-three 
to twenty-eight, all young, all already known in the literary 
world. Few men of the time made a deeper or more lasting 
impression upon literature ; none attained a securer place in 
the affectionate regard of their readers. 

6 



IRS. 

■ uliarly eal »rn in 

1775; the particu- 

lllld 

hn Lamb the elder (Chariei 

•l; and factotum to a Mr. Salt, a 

a .1 literary char- 

the only 

for what could .1 ; 

1 in 
public? 

of happy 

■ 
II, im< 1. no t 

in exhibitioner. 

In In- own bi 

1 If that be " itammen abomi- 

ional 
libblc than in 
' 

I adull 1 '• that 

Mary, who 

ill's 

lilu uttcularly rich in old English 

auth t h« * 

Irama 
tin: ' iendship 

. whom he u 
•• tli I charity I 

than 1 amb; and when me latter waa transferred from Christ's 
hip at the- old South Sea H< mer 

■ 
ription in I ami en in the 1 

which first appeared in th< "Lon- 
about 1820. me world-famou 

the ' I'.lia." Lamb did nut hold his fust appointment 



»3 

p in the I 
If tli 

the 



84 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Mary was less fortunate. In spite of Charles's earnings and 
the father's little pension poverty must have crept upon the 
family; for soon after the appointment in Leadenhall Street 
we find them in an obscure lodging in Little Queen Street, 
Holborn. The old man was almost imbecile, and the mother 
bedridden and helpless. A maiden aunt assisted the family by 
joining her small annuity to their income and living with them, 
while Charles gave up the whole of his salary, except what he 
absolutely required, and devoted all his efforts to render the 
rest happy and comfortable. 

The eldest brother, John, was a selfish creature, who lived by 
himself elsewhere, and did little or nothing to assist his afflicted 
parents. Mary was the mainstay of the household. Her 
ceaseless efforts in caring for her parents gradually undermined 
both bodily and mental strength ; the deplorable result being 
the well-known tragedy which overshadowed all her brother's 
after life. 

His imbecile father could enjoy no occupation or amuse- 
ment but cribbage, to which for the sake of the old man this 
tender-hearted son tied himself, wearily but willingly, until 
death ended the self-denying task. The aunt did not long 
survive, and then Lamb undertook single-handed on his own 
slender means' — at that time only .£100 a year — to maintain 
himself and his unhappy sister, who for the first two years 
seemed to be always on the verge of another relapse. The 
verses which he wrote at this time become invested with a pro- 
found and melancholy interest when we know the circumstances 
under which they were composed. Some of them were inserted 
in the forthcoming edition of Coleridge's Poems, published in 
1797 by Cottle, of Bath. In the following year Lamb and his 
friend Lloyd joined at a volume of "blank verse," the success 
of which was still more blank than the versification. The same 
year saw the publication of his story of " Rosamond Gray." 
Next came the tragedy of " John Woodvil," the noble senti- 
ments and fine poetry of which did not save it from failure with 
the public. The writer, together with his friends Lloyd, Cole- 
ridge, and Southey, were ridiculed in the " Anti-Jacobin " and 



CHARLES LAMB. 85 

caricatured by Gillray. These attacks considerably increased the 
fame of the victims. Their portraits, taken about this time, are 
those already alluded to as hanging side by side at South 
Kensington. In 1800 Lamb went to reside in Mitre Court 
Buildings, in the Temple, where he wrote more verses. The 
publication of " John Woodvil" obtained from the Edinburgh 
reviewers the favor of their contempt as a " specimen of the 
rudest condition of the drama," and the writer of it as " a man 
of the age of Thespis." Lamb's ideas of dramatic composition 
were too high-flown and classical for the exigencies of the 
modern stage. It was in Mitre Court that Mary Lamb wrote 
those fascinating "Tales from Shakspeare," six of which were 
contributed by her brother ; and here also Charles wrote his 
"Adventures of Ulysses" and his "Specimens of the Dramatic 
Poets who lived about the time of Shakspeare." In Decem- 
ber, 1806, was produced at Drury Lane his farce of " Mr. H.," 
which turned out a most unmitigated failure. The hisses with 
which its denouement was received were so violent that Lamb, 
who was sitting with his sister in the front of the pit, was car- 
ried away with the general disgust, and " hissed and hooted " as 
loudly as the rest. 

And so wore on the life of the genial and light-hearted essay- 
ist; for it is not his poems, but those immortal "Essays of Elia," 
by which Lamb is destined to be remembered. Mary's oft- 
recurring fits of insanity were an abiding sorrow, but he made 
the best of his wretched fate. He always bore himself bravely 
against his trying circumstances, and appeared to those who 
knew him least a thoughtless, cheerful sort of man, who cared 
for nothing so much as a light and trivial jest. His Wednesday 
evenings were really happy times. Gathered on those merry 
occasions nominally to play whist, but less for play than talk, 
were men whose names are now historic. Among his constant 
visitors might be seen Wordsworth, Coleridge, Hazlitt, Godwin, 
and Leigh Hunt in the earlier days, and afterwards Talfourd 
and Tom Hood. These Wednesday gatherings remind us of 
the memorable dinners at the publishers of the "London Maga- 
zine," where Lamb used to meet Carlyle, De Quincey, Hood, 



86 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Landor, Hare, Cunningham, Keats, Cary, and a host of others. 
The " London Magazine " was started in 1820, and the contribu- 
tors used to meet at a monthly dinner to talk over the various 
business arising out of the publication. To this magazine Lamb 
contributed the papers by which he is best known in literature, 
taking the name of "Elia" from a fellow-clerk at the India 
House. In 1823 he went to live at Colebrook Cottage, Isling- 
ton, close to the New River, whence he used to walk daily to 
his office in London. He was fond of long walks, and often 
used to indulge in them with one or other of his companions, 
or more commonly with a little orphan girl whom they had 
adopted, and called Emma Isola, who resided with them. He 
retired from his clerkship in 1825 on a small pension, and an 
allowance from the directors for himself and his sister. An- 
other removal in 1826 took them to Enfield; but the distance 
from London proved a sad drawback to that social life in which 
Lamb was always so happy. The genial Temple gatherings 
were now impossible. Many are the anecdotes told of his 
ready wit and cheery, gentle puns. Hood invited him to din- 
ner, telling him that he would have one of his favorite dishes, 
— a hare. " And many friends? " asked Lamb. The allusion 
at once to Cowper and to the company was perfect in its neat- 
ness. When Leitch Ritchie visited the Lambs he was intro- 
duced to Mary, who was sitting near a window absorbed in 
thought. After a few moments she suddenly broke into the 
conversation with the question, " Charles, what has become of 
Hannah More?" He answered promptly, but with a slight 
stammer which made the pun all the more striking, " She is 
not h'any More." She was then dead. 

In 1833 Lamb again removed, and went to Edmonton. In 
the following summer Coleridge died. A man does not lose a 
friend of fifty years' standing very easily. Lamb was com- 
pletely stupefied with the news, and though his health did not 
appear to suffer, the shock must have been one that he really 
could not bear. He only lived six months longer. The imme- 
diate cause of death was erysipelas in the face, arising from a 
scratch received in falling over a stone during one of his country 




THOMAS CAMPBELL. 



THOMAS CAMPBELL. 87 

strolls. He died calmly and with perfect resignation on the 
27th of December, 1834, a g ed fifty-nine. He lies buried with 
his beloved sister, who survived him many years, in Edmonton 
churchyard. A story of greater self-sacrifice and nobler unself- 
ishness could not be told. He had some faults; none knew 
them better than himself, and they are candidly acknowledged 
in more than one of his essays. His place in literature no one 
can possibly dispute. He ranks with Addison, Steele, Temple, 
Shenstone, and Macaulay, and is equal to the best of them. 



THOMAS CAMPBELL. 

[Born 1777. Died 1844.] 

TT is possible that there may be found some among our readers 
-*- who will at first be disposed to cavil at the selection of the 
poet Campbell's name as that of a public benefactor. Let it be 
asked if" those do not deserve well of their kind who enrich 
the language with such noble or graceful thoughts as have 
many of the world's poets. What men should be more highly 
esteemed as benefactors than such instructors, whether their 
appeal be directed to the heart or the intellect? Grant this, 
as few on reflection can fail to do, and it must be admitted how 
worthy of a place in this honorable list is he to whom the 
world owes " The Pleasures of Hope," and the British nation, 
more particularly, such a stirring appeal to patriotism as " Ye 
Mariners of England ! " Campbell's battle-pieces, written during 
the gigantic struggle with Napoleon, did so much to arouse the 
patriotism of his countrymen that it was commonly said of the 
poet that he was " the best recruiting-sergeant in England." 

Thomas Campbell was born in Glasgow on the 27th of July, 
1777, in a house no longer in existence, which then stood in the 
High Street, but was demolished some fourteen years later in 
the course of improvements. He was the youngest of eleven, 



88 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

and eighth son of Mr. Alexander Campbell, a retired merchant 
who, after amassing considerable wealth in trading with Vir- 
ginia, had been so reduced in circumstances by the outbreak 
of the American War of Independence that he was compelled 
to dissolve his business after paying all lawful claims, at the 
expense of a great part of his private fortune. This Alexander 
was the youngest of three brothers, and, like many other Scotch- 
men engaged in commerce, both before and since, came of 
gentle blood, his family, the Campbells of Kirnan, being lineal 
descendants of the first Lord of Lochawe. During the poet's 
lifetime the estate, which had been inherited by his eldest 
brother, passed out of the direct line, and was eventually sold 
by the possessor. Until he attained his eighth year, Thomas 
was indebted for his education to his mother, a woman of sin- 
gularly elegant tastes and a devoted musician; much of his time 
was, however, spent, as he has himself noted with affectionate 
remembrance, under the fostering care of a stocking-weaver, 
Stewart by name, and his wife, in the then rural neighborhood 
of Pollokshaws. When eight years old he was sent to the 
grammar school of Glasgow, where he quickly showed unusual 
talents, and won the special affection of the head master, David 
Alison, a man whose Spartan rule has become traditional, but 
who seems to have been a good scholar and a capable instruc- 
tor. In the October term of 1791 the youth began his college 
life at the University of Glasgow, of which he was afterwards to 
become Lord Rector with so unusual a degree of honor. It 
would be tedious to enter on a categorical account of his career 
during the next few years, marked as it was both by the distinc- 
tion which he attained amongst his fellow-students, and by the 
arduous labors of instructing others, to which restricted means 
compelled him to have recourse. A few points must be noted, 
more especially the publication, in his first year, of the ballad 
" Morven and Fillan," printed for private circulation, and his 
successful poetical essay, descriptive of the distribution of the 
University prizes on May 1, 1793. About the same time the 
young student attempted the legal profession, and with that end 
in view entered the office of a relation in Glasgow, Mr. Alexander 



THOMAS CAMPBELL. 89 

Campbell, Writer to the Signet; he did not long continue the 
study, which disgusted and wearied by the dryness of its routine. 
More to his taste seem to have been the proceedings of certain 
debating clubs, where he made some figure, but of which in 
more mature years he spoke with sarcastic energy, especially of 
the one known as " The Discursive." No doubt his leanings in 
this direction were fostered by a visit paid to Edinburgh in the 
early part of 1794, during which he witnessed the trial of certain 
would-be reformers, whose supposed wrongs greatly fired the 
youth's generous imagination. Scholastic honors continued to 
attend him until, in his fourth college year, new disasters came 
upon his family, owing to the father's loss of nearly all remain- 
ing income through a chancery suit. Campbell promptly began 
that succor of his parents' declining years which he so nobly 
maintained until the decease of both. His first situation was 
that of tutor in the family of a connection, Mrs. Campbell of 
Sunipol, in the Isle of Mull. It need not be pointed*out how 
clearly the impressions made by his surroundings at this time 
are to be traced throughout his" works in later life. A sub- 
sequent engagement (1797) in the house of General Napier 
gained him a friend in his employer, who tried hard to help 
Campbell in the legal profession ; but these kind efforts were 
defeated, owing to the supineness of others. At last, through 
the good offices of Dr. Robert Anderson, of Edinburgh, the 
future poet obtained literary work from Mr. Mundell, publisher 
of that city, and his career may be said to have been fairly 
begun. It was on the 27th of April, 1799, that " The Pleasures 
of Hope " first saw the light, and was at once recognized as a 
work of high merit, if not of absolute genius. Perhaps it ought 
to be mentioned that the excellent Mr. Mundell gave the young 
poet a sum of £60 for his copyright before publication. In the 
light of the poem's success this may not seem high remu- 
neration, but it was not to be despised by a practically untried 
author. " The Pleasures of Hope," together with some smaller 
pieces, soon ran through several editions. On June I, 1800, 
Campbell started on a tour in Germany with the intention of 
collecting materials for a poetical work, which was not fated to 



90 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

be carried out, on the achievements of Scottish worthies, living 
and dead. Here, during his stay in the Benedictine convent 
at Ratisbon, he witnessed the siege of that city by the French ; 
after his escape his travels brought him by way of Leipsic to 
Hamburg, where the following winter was passed in quiet 
study, chiefly philosophical. Journeying had not then been 
made easy as in our own time, and the return to England was 
a tedious affair, complicated by the general hostilities which 
convulsed the Continent. However, on March 12, 1801, the 
poet sailed under convoy for Leith ; but his vessel, the " Royal 
George," was forced to put into Yarmouth, and London was thus 
made his destination. Warmly received by Mr. Perry of the 
" Morning Chronicle," to which he had already been a contrib- 
utor, and introduced to society by Lord Holland, Campbell was 
now in the height of popularity ; but his stay in the metropolis 
was shortened by news of his father's death, which compelled a 
hasty retyrn to Edinburgh. A notable incident in this journey 
to the North was the absurd accusation of high treason made 
against the poet on the assertions of a foreign spy : a warrant 
was actually issued, and it was not without some little trouble 
and annoyance that Campbell proved his innocence of compli- 
city in French schemes of invasion. His fame was now firmly 
established, and the remainder of his life must be passed over 
with comparative brevity. His marriage took place (Septem- 
ber 10, 1802), in St. Margaret's, Westminster, to his cousin, 
Miss Matilda Sinclair, and proved a most happy one in spite 
of the disapproval of some friends. His first son was born in 
the following year, and in 1804 the little family removed from 
Pimlico to a house at Sydenham. The year 1805 was signal- 
ized by the royal grant of a pension of .£200 per annum, said 
to have been made at the instigation of Mr. Fox, who was then 
Minister; and the poet's circumstances were made still easier 
by the successful publication by subscription of his collected 
works. This was followed in 1809 by " Gertrude of Wyoming," 
placed by some foremost among his poems. It is remarkable 
that he himself seems to have thought more highly of " Theo- 
doric," which is now unknown to the greater number of people, 



THOMAS CAMPBELL. 91 

except by name. Family troubles, including the loss of his sec- 
ond son. and, in 18 12, of his mother, checkered a brilliant life 
during the next few years. Campbell was also much abroad, 
and engaged with his great work, " Specimens of the British 
Poets." In 1 82 1, by agreement with Mr. Colburn, he became 
editor of the " New Monthly Magazine," which owes its greatest 
memories to that time. His connection with the foundation of 
the University of London next claims attention ; he was one 
of the most zealous promoters, and thus alone becomes entitled 
to the name of a public benefactor. Three times in succession 
(1826-27-28) was he afterwards appointed as Lord Rector of his 
Alma Mater in Glasgow, an unprecedented honor. In 1830 his 
connection with the " Xew Monthly " ceased, and the " Metro- 
politan " was started in the following year. At this period the 
poet's sympathy with the cause of oppressed Poland took an 
active form ; it will be remembered how, in a famous passage 
of the " Pleasures of Hope," 

" Hope for a season bade the world farewell, 
And Freedom shrieked as Kosciusko fell ! " 

he had commemorated that hapless struggle; and now, in 1 83 r » 
Campbell followed up his early protest by action, which resulted 
in the formation of the Association of the Friends of Poland. 
The commencement of decline may be dated from the unsuc- 
cessful appearance of the "Pilgrim of Glencoe," in 1842; but 
the decay of a great intellect is only a painful, not a profitable, 
subject of contemplation. The end came peacefully at Bou- 
logne, June 15, 1844, in the arms of his devoted niece, Miss 
Campbell. On June 27, the body, after lying in state for a 
time, was embarked for London, where, on July 3, it found a 
resting-place among the other great inmates of Westminster 
Abbey. The spot in Poet's Corner is too well known to need 
indication. 



92 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



MRS. JAMESON. 

[Born 1794. Died i860.] 

TO Anna Brownell Murphy (Mrs. Jameson) all lovers of art 
have particular cause to be grateful ; but it is not for 
those works through which she is best known that she should 
be best remembered. The interest she took in works of art 
grew out of the deep interest she took in human life ; her great 
desire ever was to lessen its sorrows and increase its beauty and 
happiness through its intellectual development. In writing of 
works of art her aim was not only to teach admiration, but to 
teach intelligent admiration. Especially for her own sex, she 
was ambitious of progress, and many were her efforts to obtain 
for women a wider sphere of usefulness ; she wished " to free 
them, not from the high duties to which they are born, or the 
exercise of virtues on which the whole frame of social life may 
be said to depend, but from such trammels and disabilities, be 
they legal or conventional, as are manifestly injurious." 

Mrs. Jameson was born in Dublin in 1794, and was the eldest 
daughter of a miniature painter. The means of the artist were 
at times somewhat limited, and Anna, a child of much origi- 
nality and independence of character, early showed an earnest 
desire to do some work by which to help her parents, whose 
anxieties she had precociously the power to understand. 

In the collection known as " Visits and Sketches at Home 
and Abroad " is a tale of Eastern life, " Faizy," written at this 
time; and verses have been found dated 1805, though childish, 
yet full of enthusiasm and hero-worship. 

At the age of sixteen, well prepared by a liberal education, 
she took the situation of a governess in the house of the Mar- 
quis of Winchester, and realized that wish for independence 
and pd wer to help others which had been the ambition of her 




MRS. JAMESON. 



MRS. JAMESON. 93 

childhood. In 182 1 she became engaged to Mr. Robert Jame- 
son, a young barrister. The engagement was shortly broken 
off for the time, and Anna again became a governess, going to 
Italy. It was during this journey that the diary was written 
which, partially revised and with a fictitious ending added that 
its authorship might not be known, was. afterwards published as 
the " Diary of an Ennuyee." In it may be read at once the 
writer's quick perception of, and enthusiasm for, all that is 
beautiful, and the sadness which then possessed her life. 

In 1825, the broken engagement having been renewed some 
time previously, Anna Murphy became Mrs. Jameson. Fanny 
Kemble describes Mrs. Jameson at this time as being a fair, 
small, delicately featured woman, with a face that was habitu- 
ally refined and. spiritual in its expression, yet capable of a 
marvellous power of concentrated feeling. 

The " Loves of the Poets," the next undertaking Mrs. Jame- 
son essayed, was commenced with much pleasure, but left 
incomplete, the authoress despairing of her own power to do 
justice to the subject, which was one that deeply interested her. 
The "Loves of the Poets " was followed in 1831 by " Lives of 
Celebrated Female Sovereigns," and that work, a year later, by 
" Characteristics of Shakspeare's Women," an important con- 
tribution to literature, showing such delicate perception and 
profound critical power as give to its author the right to be 
considered a very able commentator on our great dramatic 
poet, for whom her enthusiastic admiration was so great. This 
work was dedicated to her valued friend, Fanny Kemble. 

In 1829 Mr. Jameson was appointed puisne judge in the 
island of Dominica. His prospects there, however, being 
uncertain, Mrs. Jameson waited till circumstances made the 
re-establishment of their home practicable, shortly after her 
husband's departure going on the Continent with her father. 
Of this journey a record is found in " Visits and Sketches at 
Home and Abroad." 

In the year 1833 Mrs. Jameson again visited Germany, where 
she found her name, through her works, already familiar, and a 
kind welcome awaiting her in the highest literary and social 



94 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

circles, and where she made friends who were friends through- 
out her life, and who live before us through her vivid and 
genial descriptions. Especially she was interested by Tieck, the 
poet, critic, and novelist; Dannecker, the sculptor; Retzsch, 
the painter; Schlegel ; and by the daughter-in-law of Goethe, 
Ottilie, ever afterwards so loved and so faithful a friend. The 
volume which was the result of this visit to Germany shows the 
author's gradually developing inclination towards those sub- 
jects which were the chief works of her life, and to which, • as 
the daughter of an artist, she might be biassed by hereditary 
tastes. The sudden illness of her father caused Mrs. Jameson 
hastily to return to England. While revising these volumes, 
" Visits and Sketches," etc., — volumes in which there is the germ 
of so much to be afterwards fully expounded, — Mrs. Jame- 
son also occupied herself in bringing before the English public 
Moritz Retzsch's " Fancies," a series of outline illustrations to 
Shakspeare, Goethe, Schiller, Burger, for which she translated 
the text, and for which she also wrote an introduction to the 
English reader. 

About this time her husband, who was now established in 
Toronto, seemed to wish that she should join him there. Pro- 
tracted uncertainty about her future and the fatigue of a tour in 
Southern Germany caused Mrs. Jameson an illness. Her recov- 
ery she attributes to the kind nursing of the Goethe family, who 
cherished her as a " pet sister." On her recovery, her husband 
having urgently desired her speedy departure, Mrs. Jameson, in 
the autumn of 1836, sailed for America, leaving the loved fam- 
ily who looked to her as their chief support. 

A dreary winter voyage, followed by many disappointments, 
made Canada a sad place in her recollections. Her affections 
could find no home there; sad and lonely in an uncongenial 
place, suffering from the severe and to her unsuitable climate, 
she yet roused herself to take an interest in what was going on 
around her, while working hard in her books and studies. " The 
angels of art " stood by her in her solitude. 

That deeply important matter, the question of education, was 
being discussed by the Canadian Parliament. Mrs. Jameson 



MRS. JAMESON. 95 

was anxious that opinions that had been promulgated in Eu- 
rope should be known, and exerted herself for this object, 
but in vain; she found she could do nothing for this cause 
always so dear to her, and on which subject she had herself 
anticipated ideas now popular, and had had previsions of the 
manner of their execution. 

Before leaving Canada Mrs. Jameson visited remote In- 
dian settlements. Everywhere she found people who enlisted 
her ready sympathy. The keen observation evinced, and her 
animated descriptions of her adventures and impressions are 
delightful. These are found in " Winter Studies and Sum- 
mer Rambles." The book is fertile in thought and food for 
thought. 

Mrs. Jameson's departure from Canada to remain perma- 
nently in Europe was with the consent of her husband ; to live 
in Canada was impossible. She returned with vanished hopes 
of personal happiness. 

Soon after her return Mrs. Jameson again went to Germany. 
While there she translated the dramas of the Princess Amelia 
of Saxony into English, writing an introduction and notes to 
each drama. They were published the following year under 
the title of "Social Life in Germany." In 1840 Mrs. Jameson 
left England, intending to proceed to Italy; and again, as in 
1833, returned on account of her father's failing health. She 
unselfishly would not leave him while her presence could in 
any way be serviceable to him. About this time Mrs. Jameson 
commenced a new book. It was the one which formed her first 
contribution to the literature of art. It was published in 1841, 
entitled the " Companion to the Galleries of Art," being a 
descriptive and critical catalogue of the private art collections 
in London. Later, Mrs. Jameson increased the reputation 
which this excellent work gave her by writing a " Handbook to 
the Public Galleries of Art in and near London." 

The autumn of 1841 was spent by Mrs. Jameson in Paris, 
studying early art in all its forms as a preparation for the work 
by which her Handbook was followed, — a series of biograph- 
ical notices of the early Italian painters, commencing with 



96 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Cimabue and ending with Bassano. These appeared in the 
"Penny Magazine," and, afterwards collected into one small 
volume, were very popular. The volume was translated into 
French in 1862 and published in Paris. 

In 1845, m order to fit herself more adequately for a work 
she had long thought of, Mrs. Jameson went abroad. This 
time no call from home caused her to hasten back. Shortly 
after her return a collection of her fugitive papers was pub- 
lished. Among them is that wonderfully true picture of Ven- 
ice, the " House of Titian; " also an excellent essay, " Woman's 
Position and Woman's Mission; " and another " On the Relation 
of Mothers and Governesses." This delicate subject is treated 
with much wisdom. These papers were among her first liter- 
ary contributions to the discussion of social science. Notwith- 
standing that since 1842 Mrs. Jameson had been engaged on so 
many diverse subjects, she had also been making progress with 
her laborious and important work, " Sacred and Legendary 
Art." The first portion of the series was brought out in 1848. 
She describes it herself " as containing an account of the lives, 
legends, habits, and attributes of the sacred personages whose 
stories have been illustrated in the pictures and sculptures of 
the Middle Ages." This work was looked for with eager antici- 
pation, long before its appearance, by all interested in the sub- 
ject. Two years later the second part, entitled " Legends of 
the Monastic Orders," appeared; and in 1852 was published 
the third volume, " Legends of the Madonna." In the preface 
Mrs. Jameson says, " If the sphere of enjoyment in works of art 
has been enlarged and enlightened, I shall have done all I ever 
wished, all I ever hoped to do." The volumes are rich in etch- 
ings and sketches by the author and her niece of the best 
pictorial representations of the histories and legends given, — 
the progress of art is shown while its mysterious symbolical 
character is explained. This work brought Mrs. Jameson ex- 
pressions of gratitude and pleasure from all quarters. The 
next book published, " A Commonplace Book of Thoughts," is 
divided into two parts, one bearing on ethics and character, the 
other on literature and art. It is full of gems of thought. The 



MRS. JAMESON. 97 

suggestions of subjects suitable for sculpture and the treatment 
appropriate are worthy of consideration by artists. 

Early in 185 1 Mrs. Jameson's friends had obtained that her 
name should be placed on the civil list, and in July the Queen 
was pleased to grant Mrs. Jameson a pension of ,£100 a year. 
Her interest in the large collection of works of art brought 
together in the Exhibition of 1851 was great. She undertook 
to write a " Guide-book to the Court of Modern Sculpture," 
afterwards republished in 1854. 

In 1852 the education of the masses was much in her mind, 
more especially the bettering of the condition of the women and 
children of the poorer classes. She was present at the educa- 
tional conference held at Birmingham ; her opinion of the value 
of a woman's opinion on matters concerning the education and ■ 
welfare of children is interesting. 

In October, 1854, in the "Edinburgh Review," appeared a 
paper on the " Life of Haydon, by Tom Taylor," which paper 
has been deservedly noticed for its vigor of style and feminine 
delicacy of appreciation. 

The year 1854 was one of great sorrow to Mrs. Jameson, — 
she lost the gentle mother to whom she was so tenderly at- 
tached. Later pecuniary affairs threatened to embarrass her. 
This fact becoming known, a number of friends, unsuspected, 
collected a sum wherewith an annuity was secured to Mrs. 
Jameson for her lifetime. The manner in which this thought- 
ful token of esteem was received was characteristic of a fine 
nature. Mrs. Jameson found it " delightful to be grateful." 

In February, 1855, Mrs. Jameson was persuaded to give a 
lecture "privately" on "Sisters of Charity Abroad and at 
Home." It was afterwards printed, and excited great attention, 
doubtless exercising influence on one of the great questions of 
the day ; it was an earnest endeavor to do something to eman- 
cipate women from the prejudices which had hitherto restricted 
the development of their finest capabilities for happiness as well 
as usefulness. The second lecture, the " Communion of La- 
bor," was delivered the following year, after Mrs. Jameson's 
return from the Continent, where she had spent her time in 

7 



98 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

visiting every hospital and charitable institution to which she 
could get admission, and in making comparisons, for which 
work her well-balanced, unprejudiced mind peculiarly fitted 
her. 

The spring of 1852 found Mrs. Jameson again in Rome, 
making additions for a second edition of the " Legends of the 
Madonna." Later she was in Florence, writing a review of 
Vasari, never published. In 1859 she was again in Rome, the 
city she loved so dearly and knew so well, working hard but 
with failing strength. During this winter she had commenced 
her last work, the volumes that were to complete the Sacred Art 
Series, the " History of our Lord and of St. John the Baptist." 
Later in Florence, though ill, she continued her work, her " one 
great compensation " being the society of her dear friends Mr. 
and Mrs. Browning and one or two others. Afterwards she vis- 
ited Dresden, then hastened home to attend the Social Science 
meeting at Bradford, where papers relative to the employment 
of women were read. Mrs. Jameson joined in the discussion 
that ensued, and the interest that she excited was intense ; every 
eye was eager to see her, and every eardrank in her thoughtful, 
weighty words. 

During the next three months, the last of her life, Mrs. Jame- 
son was occupied on what she intended as the concluding work 
of her Sacred Art Series, " the crown of the undertaking," 
designed to show how art has tried to tell the history of our 
Lord. Though she much desired to do so for the sake of those 
dependent on her, Mrs. Jameson was not destined to finish this 
work. 

Early in March, while returning from the British Museum, 
she was caught in a severe snowstorm. This exposure was fol- 
lowed by an attack of bronchitis, and within a week the great, 
gentle heart of this noble woman and earnest worker had ceased 
to beat. She was buried at Kensal Green by the graves of her 
father and mother. 




THOMAS HOOD. 



THOMAS HOOD. 99 



THOMAS HOOD. 

[Born 1799. Died 1845.] 

/^\N the tombstone of Hood, and in the books of the Record- 
^-^ ing Angel, are inscribed the words, " He sang the Song 
of the Shirt." His grave is in Kensal Green Cemetery. 
That city of the dead hides in its underground mansions many 
mute lips that in life spoke eloquently, many right hands that 
at the bidding of the inspired brain wrote down words over 
which, though the hands are coffin-dust and the pens they 
wielded have long since rusted away, thousands of readers still 
laugh or weep. No laughter had ever a heartier ring, no tears 
came ever more truly from the heart, than the tears and laugh- 
ter the world owes to Thomas Hood. He whose years, though 
few in number, were made long and evil by suffering, could 
sympathize, as the healthy in body never would, with the 
afflictions of others. He whose brave heart kept its cheerful- 
ness even in presence of the lifted dart of Death was not a man 
to laugh as, in print and elsewhere, fools have so often laughed. 
The mirth of Hood was the mirth of a soul that looked on life 
as an April day, and enjoyed with infinite zest the sunshine that 
smiled forth between the showers. 

It may seem mistaken to claim for this kindly and gentle 
spirit a place in our English Valhalla, a seat among the throned 
immortals who shall be crowned while time lasts with the glory 
of their works on earth. To Hood the majority of critics 
would assign little more than the cap and bells of the jester. 
He benefited humanity by no invention, say they, led no army, 
governed no empire, was neither philosopher nor statesman, 
neither the author of great events nor their historian. In the 
utilitarian balance such a life might be thought hardly worth 
the weighing. But the glory of Thomas Hood is of a lustre 



100 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

that eyes dazzled by the glitter of gold can never appreciate ; 
his services to humanity were of the order whose praise is 
heard in eternity as well as on earth. He was the poet of the 
poor, above all of the poor who are women, and whose sins 
and sufferings go on from day to day in London, that living 
whirlpool over which forever hangs a thick pall of smoke, 
as if man were grown ashamed of the city he had fashioned 
and would fain shut out its streets from the eye of God. The 
poet of the poor, Hood was never the unreasoning hater of the 
rich. He did not call on the people to rise, as Samson rose 
among the Philistines, and shake to pieces the Government 
under which they lived. With a voice of infinite pathos he 
spoke to Englishmen who were wealthy and prosperous of the 
starving needlewoman laboring in her garret, Death sitting by 
her side and waiting for the stitch that should be the last ; of 
the outcast girl looking into the waters of the Thames, while 
the very wind spoke to her in fiend-like whispers, and shadowy 
forms rose up blackly from the black depths and beckoned her 
to leap. It may reasonably be doubted whether Howard did 
so much for humanity as has been accomplished by the 
" Bridge of Sighs " and the " Song of the Shirt." 

Death and fame came to Thomas Hood almost together. 
For twenty years he had held his place among the rank and 
file of literature, earning thereby little more than daily bread 
and the applause that is but of a moment, when, in 1843. tne 
Christmas number of " Punch " electrified its readers with the 
" Song of the Shirt." Those wonderful verses went from news- 
paper to newspaper, as in old times the beacon fire was accus- 
tomed to pass from hill to hill. The laurels reaped by the 
author were, however, barren, and the sunshine of celebrity had 
nothing golden in its beams. With the new year was born 
an unlucky publication christened " Hood's Magazine." Mis- 
fortunes fell thick upon both periodical and editor, and the 
" flashes of merriment " that the latter still put forth came 
from a life blackened with the clouds of sickness and calamity. 
By May Hood was in a sick-room, and as editorial apology for 
the non-continuance of a novel he had commenced sent forth 



THOMAS HOOD. IOI 

a drawing of " a plate of leeches, a blister, a cup of water-gruel, 
and three labelled vials." All the rest of that year, and far 
into the spring of the next, the light of life still flickered on, 
sometimes burning up brightly enough for the sick man to 
resume his pen, sometimes all but fading away into eternity. 
" I am so near death's door," said Hood on one occasion, 
" that I can almost fancy I hear the creaking of the hinges." 
The 3d of May, 1845, saw that door gently opened for him, 
and as quietly as a tired child falls asleep this gentle spirit 
passed away from earth. Angels are supposed to be the pecu- 
liar attendants of the dying, and a ministering spirit certainly 
watched over the death-bed of Thomas Hood. It was his wife, 
the good genius of his career, the faithful companion of his few 
joys and lessener of his many sorrows ; she to whom, as Mr 
Hall tells us in his " Book of Memories," Hood once wrote, " I 
never was anything, dearest, till I knew you ; and I have been 
a better, happier, and more prosperous man ever since. Lay 
by that truth in lavender, sweetest, and remind me of it when 
I fail." When the last sands in the hourglass of life were fail- 
ing, this devoted wife and Death leaned together over the worn 
frame from which the soul had all but escaped ; and as the 
light of another glory than that of earth dawned upon the 
dying poet, she heard him murmur, " O Lord, say, Arise, take 
up thy cross, and follow me!" A few months, and " liking not 
to live without him," she went down after him to the grave. 

Not a mere jester was it that died with such words upon his 
lips, but a brave and kindly spirit, who did his noble duty in 
the battle of life, and who,- however the weight of his own cross 
might press upon him, had constantly a heart to appreciate 
and a hand to relieve the sufferings of others. There is noth- 
ing in the fame of Hood over which any descendant of his can 
ever blush. He wrote much that was calculated to make the 
best of men better, not a line that could by any possibility 
make the most worthless specimen of humanity worse. Nu- 
merous and exquisite as are his poems, there are two that in 
especial shed a starlike light upon his memory. While London 
remains a city, the hearts of men must continue to be stirred by 



102 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

the " Song of the Shirt " and the " Bridge of Sighs." The one 
poem is in some sense the sequel of the other. In this vast 
metropolis, where the worship of the golden calf is practised on 
an ever-increasing scale, it is the poor, and not the idols, that so 
frequently endure the fate of being ground to powder. These 
victims are, in general, girls, — uneducated or half-educated 
drudges, whom the love of liberty and the hatred of domestic 
service have driven to toilsome and ill-paid modes of gaining 
their daily bread. Year by year their numbers increase, year 
by year thousands of miserable fates and faces tell us how swift 
is the descent from the death-in-life of the garret to the hell of 
the streets. Lest we should be over-zealous in casting stones, 
lest we should forget that forgiveness turned not away from the 
sins of Magdalen, Hood showed us the starving woman de- 
spairing, the sinful woman dead. "One more unfortunate" is, 
perhaps, the most pathetic line poet ever penned. The 
thought of it seems to turn the Thames into a grave. 



CHARLES DICKENS. 

[Born 1812. Died 1870.] 

"AT ANY readers of Mr. Forster's " Life of Charles Dickens " 
•^*- must have been forcibly struck with the biographer's 
observation that future generations will probably be more apt 
than our own to discover the close resemblance in genius 
between the great painter and moralist, Hogarth, and the 
author of " Oliver Twist." The observation is suggested by the 
brief but finely discriminative criticism on Hogarth's pictures 
which Mr. Forster has set down from his recollections of a con- 
versation with Dickens, of the highest interest for the immortal 
novelist's admirers. Its truth cannot fail to be felt by any one 
who is familiar with Charles Dickens's writings. There is in 
the works of both the same tendency to make art subserve a 




CHARLES DICKENS. 



CHARLES DICKENS. 103 

purpose of a higher kind than mere entertainment, or even the 
satisfaction of the natural craving of the cultivated mind for 
intellectual and moral beauty. More than that, each may be 
said to have originated this employment of the imaginative 
faculty in his own field. Hogarth was a story-teller in the 
strictest sense of the term ; his series of pictures corresponded 
closely to the novelist's chapters ; he had his introduction, his 
development, his sorrowful or happy denouement, as the case 
might be. And in all this, unlike the painters of his own time 
and perhaps of every other time, he sought, with a stern, unfal- 
tering, and yet a tender hand, to inculcate moral truths and to 
exhibit to vice a terrible forewarning. Beyond even this, he knew 
how to touch the heart of the spectator with a peculiar pity, 
traceable, perhaps, to a sense of the common weakness of men 
and women to resist temptation, whether by reason of wretched 
training or natural feebleness of purpose, and to the awful nature 
of the inevitable consequences of folly and crime ; so that, by 
means that on the surface sometimes seem to be hard, cruel, and 
cynical, he awakens sentiments of the truest philanthropy. 

Whether art is concerned with any other object than of 
yielding delight by the idealized representation of nature, and 
whether a work of art is not sufficiently justified if it ministers 
to our sense of beauty, are questions that have been long 
debated, and never brought to any satisfactory conclusion. In 
regard to novels " with a purpose," as they are called, there 
have not been wanting critics to denounce the very principle on 
which they are based. It has been complained that the novel- 
ist's incidents are apt to be obviously strained for the purpose of 
enforcing his moral ; and it has been said, moreover, that the 
novelist's pictures of life being of his own creation, as well as 
the consequences which he chooses to assign to given lines of 
conduct, whether of a good or an evil kind, they .can " prove 
nothing," because they depend upon the arbitrary will of the 
inventor of a mere fable. All this, however, is clearly as appli- 
cable to Hogarth's " Marriage a la Mode " as to the stories of 
Dickens, in which wrongs and abuses are exposed in a power- 
ful light, or the evils of selfish isolation are brought before the 



104 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

mind of the reader in vivid colors. After all, the question 
seems to resolve itself into the truthfulness of the work and the 
power of the artist to impress that truthfulness upon the mind. 
That there are feeble pictures and feeble novels " with a pur- 
pose " is clear enough ; but that such works may be made to 
serve a didactic object, not only without any injury but with 
positive gain to their artistic qualities, is not less evident. Any 
way, the popular novelist who turns his attention in this direc- 
tion wields beyond question an enormous power for good. 
Fiction is at once the most captivating and the most popular of 
all forms of literary art. The immediate circulation obtainable 
by a powerful novel is ordinarily far beyond anything that a 
mere moral treatise could hope to attain. And over and above 
that, the vast majority of readers are far more capable of re- 
ceiving impressions in this way than in any other. The ques- 
tion, therefore, whether it would be justifiable to turn his great 
gifts to mere purposes of amusement was one likely to impress 
the active and benevolent mind of Dickens. That he did from 
a very early period of his career seek in this way to combat 
evil and to encourage good, — and above all to awaken that 
sympathy with the weak and helpless which is the first condi- 
tion of resolute effort for their benefit, — is clear to all readers 
of his writings ; nor should it ever be forgotten that as the 
writer of stories "with a purpose" in this sense, he was abso- 
lutely the creator of a new kind of fiction. In the abundant 
humor and genial pleasantry of Fielding, the coarse drollery of 
Smollett, the glowing imagination of Mrs. Radcliffe, or even in 
the delightful creations and the innocent fancy of Scott, we 
look in vain for any such distinguishing object. The author 
of " Oliver Twist," in brief, is the inventor of moral fiction in 
which the ethical teachings, like the lessons of Nature herself, 
are spontaneous and unobtrusive, yet profoundly convincing. 
This is a very different thing from the old moral story-book, in 
which virtue inevitably rose to civic honors, while vice always 
fell a victim to fire or shipwreck or devouring lions on the coast 
of Africa. Of the influence, whether direct or indirect, of 
Dickens's genius in this way we have since had abundant exam- 



CHARLES DICKENS. 105 

pies. It is observable in the powerful fictions of Mrs. Beecher 
Stowe, no less than in Victor Hugo's immortal story, " Les 
Miserables." 

There is no more interesting task than that of tracing the his- 
tory of Dickens's career down to the formation of his mind in 
this direction. He was reared, as we all know, in a family circle 
in which straitened circumstances were the rule. The humble 
suburban house with its melancholy little forecourt in Land- 
port, adjoining Portsmouth, is still to be seen in the same con- 
dition, apparently, in which it was when occupied by the poet's 
father, an employe in the Navy Pay Office, in 18 12, the year in 
which Dickens was born. He was from the first a sharp lad, 
and the shifts and necessities of his parents painfully impressed 
him from an early time, as the successive scenes of their daily 
life became fixed upon his memory. He had sad experiences 
of those most mournful of localities, the pawnbroker's shop and 
the inside of the prison in which his father was confined for 
debt. Wandering about the streets of London, and passing to 
and fro between his forlorn home and the blacking warehouse 
near Hungerford stairs, where he was " a poor little drudge," at 
an age when now even the children of the poorest of the poor 
are required by law to be at school, he became familiar with 
misery in many forms. When a gleam of sunshine came and 
he was sent to school, his studies were too brief and too 
desultory to be deserving of the name of education ; and even 
these advantages ceased almost within the period of childhood. 
It was at the age of fifteen that he " started in life," as the 
phrase is, as an office-boy in an attorney's office, — a poor look- 
out for an ambitious lad, for the law had in those days closed 
the door of the legal profession against poor men's sons even 
more closely than in these times. Charles Dickens had so 
determined a will, so steady a power of application, and so 
remarkable a habit of throwing his whole heart and mind into 
any work that he undertook, that but for those artificial barriers 
it is most likely that the law would have become his profession. 
But it had been sternly enacted that no one should enter 
the legal portals without a preliminary articleship, the official 



106 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

record of which must bear a stamp of the value of ;£i20. The 
articled clerk was also peremptorily forbidden to receive any 
remuneration throughout his five years of servitude, and even 
when free he was interdicted from practising until he had paid 
a yearly certificate duty of £\2. In the attorney's office, there- 
fore, no prospect offered itself, and the bar was still more inac- 
cessible. Nothing daunted, the lad turned his thoughts to the 
profession of journalism, which at least was open to the clever- 
est and most deserving. How resolutely he went to work to 
acquire the facility in shorthand writing necessary for the post 
of parliamentary reporter most readers know. 

The story of this period of Charles Dickens's life is one of 
the most encouraging to young men dependent on their own 
exertions that biography offers. Genius is, and ever must be, a 
rare and exceptional gift ; but the means whereby this lad rose 
to a position in which his great powers were able to exert 
themselves are certainly within the reach of average talent and 
opportunities. The sketches which under the pseudonym of 
Boz were contributed by the young reporter to the columns of 
an evening paper, and afterwards republished, attracted some 
attention. They display his powers of observation, but they 
are in a considerable degree imitative. The influence of Theo- 
dore Hook and of Hood is strongly observable in them, and, 
what is more important, they exhibit little of that serious pur- 
pose which, even amidst their abundant humor, is so conspicu- 
ous in his later works. To satirize the habits of the cockney 
of those days — the spruce city clerk on' his holiday, etc., 
the humble shopman and his sweetheart at the suburban tea- 
gardens, the servant girls and apprentice boys at Greenwich 
Fair — were the common objects of the writers of sketches in 
the magazines of the time ; and " Boz " simply fell in with the 
fashion of the hour. In the sketches of London street life 
there is indeed indication of that marvellous observation and 
sympathy with the habits and pursuits of the poor of London 
which afterwards attained so remarkable a development. It is 
more curious still to observe the influences of a literary fashion 
in the origin and history of his first great work, " Pickwick." 



CHARLES DICKENS. IO? 

In the satire upon the conduct of breach of promise actions in 
the famous trial scene, in the pictures of the inside of the old 
disorderly debtors' prison, and in the pathetic element of some 
of the little stories introduced into the work, we have a gleam, 
as it were, of the distinguishing qualities of his future novels. 
The cheerful companionship and overflowing good-nature of 
the scenes at the hospitable Kentish farmhouse, moreover, 
could never have been depicted by a misanthropic hand. But, 
after all, " Pickwick " cannot be said to have had any more seri- 
ous purpose than that of producing innocent merriment. The 
book, indeed, was the direct product of a merely conventional 
sort of humor then greatly in favor with the public. Its inspir- 
ing principle was simply that habit of making fun of cockneys, 
and above all of cockney sportsmen, which was so conspicuous 
in the productions of the artistic and literary caricaturists of the 
days of King William. 

In order to understand the true origin of " Pickwick," — the 
first work that made its author famous, — it is worth while to 
trace the history of this odd fashion. It was in the year 1831 
that the old laws which aimed at confining field sports exclu- 
sively to the most wealthy and aristocratic class were first 
relaxed. Before that time the conditions of carrying a gun in 
pursuit of game were almost prohibitive, and even the buying 
and selling of game were strictly forbidden. The new law 
certainly did not make sporting a poor man's pastime; but 
the sight of even a middle-class sportsman had hitherto been 
so rare that the new order of things seems to have struck the 
minds of contemporary humorists as something exceptionally 
anomalous and absurd. Hence for long after that time our wits, 
both great and small, were never tired of making fun of the sup- 
posed blunders and mishaps of the typical citizen — generally 
assumed, by way of heightening the jest, to be a " soap-boiler's 
clerk" — who was of a mind to go forth in quest of game. The 
localities of the cockney sportsman's achievements were repre- 
sented as rarely going farther afield than Hornsey Wood or the 
meadows which then existed about Copenhagen House, Isling- 
ton, now a populous neighborhood of houses and shops. It 



IO* 



REAT BENEFACT01 



was considered real humor' to depict him as firing at ducks and 
hens in a dairyman's yard, or shooting gypsy babies in a hedge 
in mistake for hares. When he was shown as flying from the 
approach of an infuriated bull, and plumping, in his distress, 
into the very middle of a gardener's cucumber frame, or seek- 
ing refuge on the top of a wall thickly garnished with tenter- 
hooks, while a stout farmer was rapidly approaching flourishing 
a cart-whip, the humor was no less certain to be applauded. 
If a companion inquired diffidently, " Which do you put in first, 
the shots or the powder?" he was represented as answering, 
" Why, you mix them, to be sure." Even when he was seen, 
as in one of Seymour's most approved sketches, scattering his 
brains over a stubble field by the accidental bursting of a gun, 
there was still no pity for the imaginary cockney sportsman. 
When a collection of these once popular objects of the print- 
shop windows were republished a few years ago, it was found 
that their power to amuse had almost entirely evaporated. In 
truth, it never had much foundation beyond the novelty held in 
the idea of any person connected with towns and trade shoul- 
dering a gun on the ist of September, and the supposed wild 
incongruity of the associations suggested, though traces of this 
bygone fashion are observable in the early sketches of John 
Leech and also in the earlier volumes of" Punch." 

Publishers are not slow to conform to the prevailing fancies 
of readers, and hence it occurred to Messrs. Chapman and Hall 
to avail themselves of the services of the popular Seymour, who 
engaged to furnish them with four sketches monthly ; that upon 
this they looked about for a writer to furnish the necessary sup- 
ply of letterpress, and naturally thought of the author of the 
" Sketches by Boz," who had exhibited sympathy with the fash- 
ion of the day, are facts that have often been told ; but it is not 
generally so clearly perceived that in its origin at least Sey- 
mour was regarded as the predominant collaborator. An ab- 
surd controversy raged some years ago regarding the relative 
shares in " Pickwick " of the original artist and the author. It 
was then established, no doubt, that the benevolent bald head 
and those most respectable limbs encased in black shorts were 



CHARLES DICKENS.' 109 

the happy inspiration of the unfortunate artist; but Seymour, 
as is well known, died before the appearance of the second 
monthly number, and the truth is that even before then the 
whole character of the project was becoming changed under the 
influence of Dickens's genius. The first number appeared on 
the 31st of March, 1836. It was announced as the " Posthu- 
mous Papers of the Pickwick Club, containing a faithful record 
of the perambulations, perils, adventures, and sporting transac- 
tions of the Corresponding Members." Each number was to 
comprise four illustrations by Seymour, and twenty-four pages 
of letterpress. The advertisements also stated, in the mild form 
of fun then in vogue, " that the travels of the members ex- 
tended over the whole of Middlesex, a part of Surrey,- a portion 
of Essex, and several square miles of Kent," and it was prom- 
ised that the narrative would show " how in a rapid steamer 
they smoothly navigated the placid Thames, and in an open 
boat fearlessly crossed the turbid Medway." " Phiz " was en- 
gaged to take the place of Seymour ; the proportions were 
changed to two illustrations instead of four, and thirty-two 
pages of letterpress instead of twenty-four. The club was also 
rapidly dropped, and the adventures of Mr. Pickwick soon 
acquired the new form in which it was destined to become so 
widely known. 

It is a surprising evidence of the fertility of invention and 
self-confidence of the young author that it was at that time that 
he undertook the editorship of " Bentley's Miscellany," in which 
his " Oliver Twist " — the most powerful, perhaps, certainly the 
most terrible in its stern moral lessons, and the most pathetic 
in its pictures of human failing and human suffering, of all his 
stories — first made its appearance. "Pickwick" and "Oliver 
Twist," in fact, were written together month by month, nor 
does the author appear at any time to have been much in 
advance of the printer's demand for manuscript. " Pickwick's " 
monthly " green leaves " never failed to make their appearance 
for the twenty months of its career ; the " Parish Boy's Prog- 
ress," Rowever, was certainly once interrupted, for in the month 
of June, 1837, an apology appeared in the magazine for the 



OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



omission of the usual instalment, on the ground of the sudden 
death of a dear young relative to whom he was passionately 
attached. The inspiring principle of " Oliver Twist " was a 
noble one ; it was that of compassion for the poor under the 
hardships inflicted upon them by the new Poor Law Act just 
then coming into operation. Dickens, it must be admitted, was 
quick to judge, being quick to feel. He probably knew but 
little of the evils of the old poor-law administration, which 
had grown until they had finally necessitated the application 
of some sharp remedy. Great changes of that kind, however 
wholesome in principle and beneficial in their ultimate objects, 
were not to be effected without inflicting some injustice ; but it 
seems certain that the changes in progress were accomplished 
in too many instances by wanton harshness. The papers were 
filled with complaints of " the Bastiles," as the union workhouses 
were called, and Dickens's heart was touched and his imagination, 
fired by this theme. Happily the profound truthfulness of his 
creations saved him from doing injustice to any class. If there 
was exaggeration in his views, his pictures of life are still sound. 
From that time a purpose other than mere entertainment 
rarely failed to be discernible in his works. In that wonderful 
panorama of life and most affecting narrative, the " Old Curios- 
ity Shop," we find in " Kit " the first of those portraits of poor 
neglected street boys, for whom he was able to enlist so strong 
a sympathy ; and what can move compassion towards the poor 
more deeply than his scenes of life in the manufacturing towns 
and districts whither the child wanders with the old man? In 
" Barnaby Rudge " how fine a lesson is administered on the 
folly and sin of religious hatreds ! Special evils are attacked, as 
all readers know, in many other of his novels ; but the general 
purpose of mitigating that harshness which arises from igno- 
rance of what is good and deserving of sympathy in others, is 
predominant in all his works. It was this fact, apart from 
his singularly impressive voice and highly studied yet thor- 
oughly natural delivery, which gave to his readings so fasci- 
nating a character, and rendered them so popular both in 
England and America. 




ROBERT BURNS. 



ROBERT BURNS. Ill 

The life of Charles Dickens is too large a theme to be treated 
here save under one such aspect as we have taken. It is to be 
read in Mr. Forster's interesting and elaborate but still insuffi- 
cient biography, and in the collection of his correspondence 
under the editorship of his eldest daughter. It is further to be 
read in his works themselves. Nearly fourteen years have now 
elapsed since his death. The terrible railway accident at Sta- 
plehurst to the tidal train, in which he happened to be a 
passenger, had given to his system a great shock. Railway 
travelling from henceforward seems to have affected his nerves 
in a curious degree. The sad scenes of lingering suffering and 
death which he witnessed, too, on that occasion, had impressed 
his mind with a horror which he often recalled with painful 
feelings. It is a singular coincidence that his strikingly sudden 
death took place on the anniversary of that disastrous accident, 
just five years later, — that is, on the 9th of June, 1870. Since 
then his vast reputation has assuredly undergone no diminution. 
Cheaper editions of his works have brought them within the 
range of countless readers everywhere. Certainly no other au- 
thor ever enjoyed in his lifetime so great and so long-sustained 
a popularity; but there is every reason to believe that the 
fame of Charles Dickens is destined to grow brighter yet. 



ROBERT BURNS. 

[Born 1759. Died 1796.] 

" T ET me write the songs of a people, and I care not who 
-*-' make the laws," is an observation shrewdly applicable 
to the genius of Robert Burns. Where indeed, upon the 
broad roll of names eminent in song, is there to be found a 
national poet whose memory is so tenderly cherished by his 
countrymen as is that of the humble Scottish bard? Where is 
there another whose simple lays are so often on the lips or so 



112 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

highly treasured as his? Wherever you find a Scot his eye 
lights up at the mere mention of the name of Burns. A cen- 
tury has rather increased than diminished the warm love and 
admiration in which the poet is held by the great mass of his 
countrymen, who celebrated the centennial anniversary of 
Burns's birth with enthusiasm all over the civilized world. But it 
is not alone to Scotland that the fame of Robert Burns belongs. 
"Tarn o' Shanter" and the "Cotter's Saturday Night" are 
domesticated in the literature of all English-speaking peoples, 
there to constantly renew their youth when the pretty trifles that 
to-day make reputations shall have outlived their brief hour of 
popular favor. 

Burns was born in the parish of Alloway, near Ayr, on the 
25 th of January, 1759. His father was a poor farmer who gave 
his son what education he could afford. Robert was taught 
English well, and " by the time he was eleven or twelve years of 
age, he was a critic in verbs, substantives, and particles." He 
was also taught to write, had a fortnight's French, and had ob- 
tained a little practical knowledge of land-surveying. He had a 
few books, among which were the Spectator, Pope's works, 
Allan Ramsay, and a collection of English songs. His reading 
was subsequently extended to Thomson, Sterne, Shenstone, 
Mackenzie, and other standard authors. This was the whole 
foundation upon which the young poet was to build a reputa- 
tion that should outlast the groundwork. As the advantages 
of a liberal education were not within his reach, it is scarcely to 
be regretted that his reading was at first so limited in its range. 
His mind was not distracted by a multitude of volumes. What 
books he had, he read and studied thoroughly, and his mind 
grew up with original and robust vigor. It is impossible to con- 
template the life of Burns at this time without a strong feeling 
of affectionate admiration and respect. " His manly integrity of 
character (which, as a peasant, he guarded with jealous dig- 
nity) and his warm and true heart elevate him, in our concep- 
tions, almost as much as the native force and beauty of his 
poetry." We see him when a mere youth toiling " like a galley- 
slave " to support his parents, yet grasping at every chance of 



ROBERT BURNS. 113 

acquiring knowledge from men and books. Burning with a 
desire to do something for Old Scotland's sake, whose very 
soil he worshipped, venerating the memory of her ancient pat- 
rons and defenders, filled with an exquisite sensibility and 
kindness that could make him weep over even the destruction 
of a daisy of the field or a mouse's nest, — these are all moral 
contrasts and blendings that seem to belong to the spirit of 
romantic poetry. His writings, as we know, were but the frag- 
ments of a great mind, the hasty outpourings of a full heart and 
intellect. When fame had at last lifted him to the insecure and 
dangerous place of a popular idol, — soon to be thrust down 
again into poverty and neglect, — some errors and some frail- 
ties cast a shade over the noble figure ; but with the clearing 
away of prejudice, envy, and uncharitableness, time has 
graciously restored to Burns the love and gratitude of his 
countrymen ; for, great as were his temptations or his frailties, 
the world has recognized that the inward instincts of the man 
were large, generous, and noble. Let us draw the veil over 
these frailties. He indeed suffered an earthly martyrdom, but 
he has been awarded a posthumous triumph. 

After the publication, in 1773, of Fergusson's collected poems, 
there was an interval of about thirteen years during which no 
writer of eminence had arisen who attempted to excel in the 
native language of the country. In the summer of 1783 
Robert Burns, the " Shakspeare of Scotland," issued his first 
volume from the obscure press of Kilmarnock. Its influence 
was immediately felt, and that influence has not yet ceased to 
vibrate in the hearts of the Scottish race. "Burns was then only 
in his twenty-seventh year. No poetry was ever more instan- 
taneously or universally popular among a people than that of 
Burns in Scotland. There was the humor of Smollett, the 
pathos of Sterne, the real life of Fielding, and the pictorial 
power of Thomson, — all united in an Ayrshire ploughman. 
So eagerly was the book sought after, that, when copies of it 
could not be obtained, many of the poems were transcribed 
and sent around in manuscript among admiring circles of 
readers. The subsequent productions of the poet did not 



114 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

materially affect the estimate of his powers formed from his 
first volume. His life was at once too idle and too busy, and 
it was also too brief, for the full development of his extraor- 
dinary powers. It cannot be said that Burns fails absolutely in 
any kind of composition, except in his epigrams. These are 
often coarse without being entertaining. Nature had been 
abundantly lavish to him, but she had denied him wit. Burns 
had little or no technical knowledge of music. His whole soul, 
however, was full of the finest harmony. Not a bird sang in a 
bush, but it was music in his ear. He fell in love with every 
handsome female face he saw, and when thus moved his feel- 
ings took the form of song, and the words fell as naturally into 
their places as if prompted by the most perfect mastery of 
musical rhythm. A lengthy theme wearied and chilled his 
Muse; but a song embodying some burst of passion, patriotism, 
love, or humor, was exactly suited to the impulsive character of 
Burns's genius and to his situation and circumstances. The 
Scottish poet knew, however, many old airs and more old bal- 
lads ; and a few bars of the music or a line of the words served 
as a keynote to his suggestive fancy. 

Burns's incentive to composition was his ardent admiration 
for the fair sex, and it was to one of his boyish loves that his 
earliest poetical effusion was dedicated. This strain of admi- 
ration, which in him became an element of weakness, appears 
throughout all his later writings. His favorites were in the 
humble walks of life, but he elevated them to Lauras and Ophe- 
lias. Having failed in attempting the business of a flax-dresser 
and in farming, Burns brought out his little volume of collected 
poems in order to procure the means of emigrating to Jamaica. 
It carried him instead into the best circles of Edinburgh, in 
whose adulation the poet soon lost his head. The brilliancy 
with which Burns had flashed upon the society of Edinburgh, 
soon suffered a partial eclipse ; but the attentions that he had 
received were in their consequences most disastrous to the poet's 
future. He contracted habits of convivial indulgence which in 
the end proved fatal to his prospects of advancement, while they 
steadily undermined his constitution. Burns tore himself away 



ROBERT BURNS. 115 

from the pleasures and gayety of Edinburgh to begin again the 
life of a farmer. Having some £500 in ready money remain- 
ing from the sale of his poems, he took Ellisland Farm, near 
Dumfries, and settled down into a more tranquil existence. At 
this time too he was legally married to Mrs. Burns, whose con- 
nection with the poet had hitherto formed one of the darker 
episodes of his career. His old habits returning upon him, 
finding that farm labor and its demands were a stumbling-block 
in the way of his literary ambition, Burns applied for and 
obtained the place of an exciseman for the district in which he 
lived. Abandoning his farm to the care of servants, Burns 
might now be seen mounted on horseback, pursuing defaulters 
of the revenue among the hills and vales of Nithsdale. The 
farm was soon given up, and Burns removed to Dumfries. 
There was no amendment, and, to make matters worse, Burns 
soon fell into disgrace with the Excise Board on account of 
his political opinions. The time, it will be remembered, was 
one of great excitement ; for the French Revolution was then 
menacing the peace of Europe and turning the heads of the 
imaginative and enthusiastic spirits who had imbibed socialistic 
ideas from the false philosophy of the leaders of popular opinion 
in France. Burns was too independent and much too out- 
spoken for a placeman. Some of his imprudent expressions 
were reported to his superiors ; and though he retained his 
office, all hope of a promotion through which he might attain 
the longed-for life of literary leisure was now wrecked. 

From this time the poet's wayward fortunes rapidly declined. 
He became irritable and gloomy. His health gave way. In 
the summer of 1796 he was attacked with fever, which on the 
2 1 st of July terminated fatally, the poet then being in his 
thirty-eighth year. 



Il6 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



NATHANIEL. HAWTHORNE. 

[Born 1804. Died 1864.] 

THE career of this great novelist conclusively shows us how 
even a genius of the first rank, such as his unquestionably 
was, may long fail of obtaining the recognition that is its due. 
There is, in fact, no royal road to literary fame. Yet it must be 
clear to every discriminating and impartial student of Nathaniel 
Hawthorne's career, we think, that his discouragements and 
his trials arose in most cases from causes inherent in the 
man himself. Indeed the deductions essential to a just view of 
Hawthorne's life and work are easily made while we follow the 
successive steps by which his position at the head of American 
writers of fiction was reached at last. There is probably no 
writer whose personality seems to us so largely mingled with 
his productions as Hawthorne's. In truth, the man and his 
work are inseparable in our minds. Sometimes he seems 
merely repeating to us the things he has seen in his visions, for 
he was ever as one who dreams dreams and sees visions ; then 
again his intellectual and moral insight is so like one laying 
bare, under great stress of circumstances, the inmost secrets of 
his own heart, that we cannot forbear investing him with the 
intelligence, and something too of the dread, which we are apt 
to associate with clairvoyants. From this we conclude that few 
writers have had such power of self-absorption in their own 
creations as Hawthorne had, and that it is for this reason his 
strong individuality is so indelibly stamped upon his characters. 
Hawthorne's novels contain a few scraps of autobiography; his 
Note-Books add something to our knowledge of him ; but as 
his character was full of strange inconsistencies, of which he, 
most of all, seemed sensible, so was he averse to having his 
biography written, although in one of his dreamy monologues, 




NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 1 17 

when he seems thinking aloud, he conjectures that such distinc- 
tion would yet be his. Materials for Hawthorne's biography 
are therefore not only scanty, but fragmentary. Intimate per- 
sonal knowledge of the man could not be claimed by the most 
attached or the most trusted of his friends. It is therefore to 
his works that we must turn, with the secret feeling that they 
alone delineate Hawthorne truly. As every writer has his liter- 
ary models, so there can be little doubt that Walter Scott and 
Charles Lamb were the models upon which Hawthorne's liter- 
ary style was formed. These were the men who had most 
impressed his age. He soon entered a field in which his own 
brilliant imagination was supreme, and in which he is still 
without a peer. 

Nathaniel Hawthorne was born at Salem, Massachusetts, 
July 4, 1804. The family surname was originally Hathorne, 
which was altered by the novelist himself while he was a college 
undergraduate. His ancestors belonged to the stern old Puritan 
stock, and one of them had been a conspicuous figure in the 
witchcraft horror. The house in which the novelist was born is 
still standing. He tells us that " thousands upon thousands 
of visions have appeared to him in it," and that, should he ever 
have a biographer, he ought to make great mention of this 
house in his memoirs, for it was here that he kept the long and 
weary vigil that preceded the dawning of his fame. It is a 
humble dwelling in a quiet, old-fashioned neighborhood, one of 
scores that still make Salem a connecting link with the past. 
The street is narrow, and runs down to the water-side and to the 
wharves, and so was a convenient abode for the novelist's father, 
Captain Nathaniel Hawthorne, who was a shipmaster in the day 
when Salem was a port of importance. House and wharves alike 
indicate the decay of this importance. When young Hawthorne 
v/as four years old his father died in a foreign port, and the 
lad's care and training thenceforth fell to his mother, who after 
her bereavement went home to her father's house. Young 
Nathaniel became a sort of protege of his uncle, Robert Man- 
ning, who took charge of the- boy's education. The Mannings 
were owners of some property in Raymond, Maine ; and when 



Il8 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Nathaniel was fourteen, Mrs. Hawthorne took her children and 
went to Raymond to live. The Hawthornes remained there 
only about a year, and then returned to Salem. Hawthorne 
refers with unaffected pleasure to the wild and free life that he 
led while roaming through the woods or skating by moonlight 
on Sebago Lake. But he also regretfully says that it was there 
he got " his cursed habit of solitude " which clung to him 
through life. One may perhaps see in this habit of seclusion 
that the boy was " father to the man." 

At seventeen Hawthorne entered Bowdoin College. He was 
a member of the now celebrated class of 1825. Two benches 
behind him sat young Longfellow. In a higher class was 
Franklin Pierce, with whom Hawthorne formed a friendship 
that lasted through life, and that proved of much advantage 
to him, for Pierce, too, was a rising man, and he eventually 
became Hawthorne's patron; and it was Pierce, again, who 
stood by Hawthorne's solitary death-bed and who closed his 
eyes as the last act of earthly friendship. 

We now see the boy changing into the man. Yet to his 
classmates he was a riddle. He seemed to have an existence 
apart from them, at most times, into which he could not and did 
not admit them. One of them says : " I love Hawthorne, I 
admire him ; but I do not know him. He lives in a mysterious 
world of thought and imagination which he never permits me to 
enter." Another says that Hawthorne never told a story or 
sung a song while he was in college. This reserve procured 
for him the name of " the silent man " among his classmates, 
who seem, nevertheless, to have put the most generous inter- 
pretation upon this unsocial disposition, thus paying a high 
tribute to Hawthorne's superiority. So the sensitive, serious, 
and shrinking student dwelt in a world apart from his fellows. 
His books and his own thoughts were his chosen companions, 
and among them his happiest hours were passed. 

Notwithstanding the high opinion of his abilities that his 
classmates had formed, Hawthorne's scholarship did not show 
great excellence or give high promise for the future. He did 
not make his mark, as the saying is, at college. Longfellow, 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 119 

and not Hawthorne, was the conspicuous figure in his class ; 
for the latter possessed far too much of that " truant disposi- 
tion," which we see developing more and more as the years 
roll on, for steady application to study. In these words, which 
were doubtless penned with a smile on the lip at the memories 
they recalled, Hawthorne reminds his friend Horatio Bridge 
of the time when they were lads together at this country 
college, " gathering blueberries in study hours, under those tall 
academic pines ; or watching the great logs, as they tumbled 
along the current of the Androscoggin ; or shooting pigeons 
and gray squirrels in the woods ; or bat-fowling in the summer 
twilight ; or catching trout in that shadowy little stream which, 
I suppose, is still wandering riverward through the forest; — 
two idle lads, in short (as we need not fear to acknowledge 
now), doing a hundred things that the faculty never heard of or 
else it had been the worse for us." 

After graduating Hawthorne returned to Salem, and for some 
time led what seemed to be an almost purposeless existence. 
Yet it is evident that his aspirations already pointed toward a 
literary career. For him, he says, the learned professions had 
few charms; and so far as we can judge it seems clear that his 
mind was steadily settling the problem of his future vocation 
in the direction of literary achievement. He began writing 
anonymously for the periodicals of the day those tales many of 
which he has told us were, in a fit of despondency or despair, 
"burned to ashes." The "Gentle Boy" and "Sights from a 
Steeple," were first printed in the " Token," an annual that was 
conducted by Goodrich, the genial " Peter Parley," who so 
delighted the young readers of a generation ago. Among its 
contributors the " Token " numbered such well-known writers as 
John Quincy Adams, Willis, Everett, Pierpont, Neal, Sedgwick, 
Sigourney, and Tuckerman ; while Longfellow and Holmes 
were new candidates for popular favor. Among the unknown 
contributors was Nathaniel Hawthorne. 

Besides these fugitive sketches of his, which had been chiefly 
drawn from the traditions or associations of his birthplace, 
Hawthorne published anonymously, in 1832, a romance en- 



120 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

titled " Fanshawe." But he never acknowledged it, and this 
literary foundling has only recently been rescued from the 
limbo to which its author's better judgment had consigned it. 
Hawthorne had been writing some ten or twelve years without 
making, as he frankly avows, the slightest impression upon the 
public. Still he wrote on. His young manhood had been 
spent in the pursuit of a phantom which had constantly eluded 
his grasp, — literary celebrity. If we may believe him, he had 
burned much more than he had published. He was as inex- 
orable as the Indian who puts his deformed offspring to death. 
Yet, in spite of all that a soul so sensitive as his must have 
endured while waiting for recognition, Hawthorne clung to his 
purpose with the tenacity of one who feels that he has great 
things within him, impelling him onward at the sacrifice of 
everything else. Others, it is true, have possessed this per- 
sistency without Hawthorne's genius ; but this author's estimate 
of himself was not a mistaken one. So far the pleasure that he 
had derived from literary composition was his greatest reward ; 
but that pleasure alone, he declares with grim irony, will not 
" keep the chill out of a writer's heart, or the numbness out of his 
fingers." Finally, Hawthorne gathered together into a volume 
the various waifs that he had sent forth, and offered them to Good- 
rich for publication. It is said to be true that Goodrich declined 
to print the volume without a guaranty against loss ; and that it 
might never have appeared at all but for the generous help 
of Horatio Bridge, to whom, in the beautiful dedication to 
" The Snow Image," the author acknowledges his debt of grat- 
itude in a way that does credit to both head and heart. In 
1837 the volume was brought out, under the title of "Twice- 
Told Tales." Longfellow was one of the first to commend it 
as the work of genius. So little was Hawthorne known that 
when his name was thus publicly announced most people 
supposed it to be fictitious, and not the author's real one. 
" Twice-Told Tales " was accorded a favorable, but rather lan- 
guid reception. " A moderate edition was 'got rid of (to use 
the publisher's very significant phrase) within a reasonable 
time, but apparently without rendering the author or his pro- 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 121 

ductions much more widely known than before. The heart of 
the great public had not yet been touched. 

The next year Hawthorne received the appointment of 
Weigher and Gauger in the Boston Custom House. In this 
unromantic capacity he continued in the public service until a 
change of administration turned him out of office. That this 
change brought no hardship along with it, is pretty clear from 
a perusal of one of Hawthorne's letters in which he unbosoms 
himself to this effect. " I pray," he says, " that in one year 
more I may find some way of escaping from this unblest Cus- 
tom House; for it is a very grievous thraldom. I do detest 
all offices, — all at least that are held on a political tenure. 
And I want nothing to do with politicians. Their hearts wither 
away, and die out of their bodies. Their consciences are turned 
to india-rubber, or to some substance as black as that, and 
which will stretch as much." 

From this most irksome and prosaic life Hawthorne now 
eagerly turned to the ideal. Always a dreamer, always an 
ardent lover of nature, haunted by the idea of a perfect Chris- 
tian brotherhood that should be lifted high above the debas- 
ing influences of the great world, and in which men should act 
according to the dictates of a pure reason, our author joined 
the community of Transcendentalists at Brook Farm. This 
Brook Farm episode was only the echo of that imagined by 
Coleridge, Southey, and a few others like them, of establishing 
on the banks of the Ohio a community founded on a thor- 
oughly social basis. The actors, in spite of merciless ridicule, 
showed the courage of their convictions ; but the daily drudgery 
that made part of the system by which these dreamers expected 
to revolutionize society proved too much for one like Haw- 
thorne, in whom intellect was supreme ; and so he came back 
into the world again, a wiser if not a better man. Man in his 
primitive estate was not, after all, what he had imagined. In- 
stead of being stimulated, his intellectual faculties were stunted 
by toil. With the feeling fresh upon him that he had escaped 
from a wholly unsuitable and unnatural life, Hawthorne sets 
down this emphatic opinion: "The real Me," he says, "was 



122 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

never an associate of the Community." The future novelist 
was now, after this experience, building more air-castles from 
the materials of his fancy; and this time, at least, they were 
destined not to fall in ruins about him. 

Very likely another and even more potent influence was 
contributing to draw Hawthorne back into the world again; 
for within a year he was married to Miss Sophia Peabody, of 
Salem, whom he had long known and admired. The young 
couple chose a home at Concord, in the old parsonage house 
that Emerson had formerly inhabited, but which was soon to 
become more famous as the " Old Manse." An exquisite pic- 
ture of this house and its surroundings forms the introduction 
to the " Mosses of an Old Manse." The doubly famous land- 
mark stands within musket-shot of the first battle-field of the 
Revolutionary War, and from its windows the startled occupants 
had witnessed the brief but fateful combat begun for the posses- 
sion of the bridge that here spanned the historic stream. This 
fact did not, however, greatly impress Hawthorne, who frankly 
owns to being little moved through the force of such associa- 
tions as these. 

The "Old Manse" had fixed, however, Hawthorne's position 
in the literary world. From this period the biographer has 
only to recount his successes. After a three years' residence 
at Concord — to his limited circle of friends as great an enigma 
as ever — Hawthorne had the good fortune to receive from a 
Democratic administration the appointment of Surveyor for the 
Port of Salem, and, bidding farewell to the Old Manse and to 
his habitual seclusion, he was presently installed within the 
edifice which, like everything else with which Hawthorne's gen- 
ius or his personality is associated, was thenceforth destined to 
live forever. From the Salem Custom House emanated that 
wondrous story of sin, remorse, and shame, "The Scarlet Let- 
ter." Hawthorne has told us that he found the missive from 
which the motive of his novel is taken in an obscure corner of the 
Surveyor's office. The sketch of " Endicott and the Red Cross" 
contains the germ of this story, which afterward became in the 
author's hands the work generally conceded to be his greatest. 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 1 23 

A rare faculty of individualizing places had already become 
one of Hawthorne's marked characteristics. A true artist, his 
pictures are always so finished that whether it be an old house 
or some other inanimate object that he is describing we feel 
that we have seen it with all the power of Hawthorne's imagina- 
tion. Then his houses are all haunted, which strongly contrib- 
utes to make us consider them to have human attributes and 
human functions. 

In 1850, the year in which "The Scarlet Letter " was pub- 
lished, the turn of the political wheel again dropped the Sur- 
veyor from office. He soon quitted Salem ; for, strangely 
enough, after his arrival at manhood he had never any liking 
for the place that was so intimately associated with his early 
struggles. This time he took up his residence at Lenox, in 
Berkshire. Here he wrote " The House of the Seven Gables," 
a romance founded upon the idea of a family that is predes- 
tined to misfortune through the wicked deeds of a wicked ances- 
tor. It is therefore of the same gloomy cast as "The Scarlet 
Letter ; " but the same subtile power of analysis, of acute de- 
scription, of vigorous beauty of style, speedily rendered this 
work a rival to that upon which Hawthorne's renown chiefly 
rests. After this Hawthorne went back to Concord, and settled 
down in the house since known as the " Wayside." 

The next event in Hawthorne's life — for between whiles he 
had produced the " Wonder Book," " Tanglewood Tales," " The 
Blithedale Romance," and the "Life of Franklin Pierce" — was 
the appointment by his old friend, now President Pierce, to the 
American Consulate at Liverpool. This gave Hawthorne the 
coveted opportunity of seeing the Old World ; for it is known 
that he had long felt that the field in which he had achieved his 
successes was too narrow for him. In 1857 he resigned his 
consulate, and for the next two or three years travelled on the 
Continent, making a considerable sojourn in Italy. From this 
experience came " The Marble Faun," Hawthorne's third great 
work in which the idea of secret guilt is the dominant one. 
" The Italian sky, under which the story was conceived, seems 
to have imparted to it a degree of softness and beauty wanting 



124 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

in its predecessors." Yet in spite of what Hawthorne felt, <and 
has expressed, in regard to the difficulty of writing romances 
about his own country, some of the most discriminating of 
critics have declared that they like him best on American 
ground. Looking to him as being peculiarly the product of 
American thought and training, and as the coming exponent of 
a " national literature," they could not agree with the dictum 
that " romance and poetry, ivy, lichens, and wall flowers, need 
ruins to make them grow." 

Hawthorne returned to his native country crowned with hon- 
ors, but not so strong physically as when he had left it. In the 
retirement of his home at Concord he settled down into the old 
life and its quiet ways ; but at fifty-six the literary tasks that he 
had set for himself were no longer so easy of accomplishment 
as such labors had once seemed to the younger and more ambi- 
tious man. His melancholy seemed to increase. His country 
was now convulsed by civil war. His health continued steadily 
declining, so much so that by the winter of 1864 his condi- 
tion was causing much anxiety to his family and friends. In the 
hope of improvement Hawthorne set out with his constant 
friend Pierce on a journey to the White Mountains in the month 
of May. On the 18th the two college boys, now two gray- 
haired men, reached the town of Plymouth. Hawthorne retired 
early to rest. At four in the morning Pierce arose, went to his 
friend's bedside, laid his hand upon him gently, and found 
that life was extinct. The body was brought to Concord. 
Longfellow, Emerson, Holmes, Lowell, and many other literary 
friends stood around the bier when the coffin was lowered into 
its final resting-place in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. Upon the 
coffin was laid Hawthorne's unfinished romance, of which Long- 
fellow has so beautifully said, — 

" Ah, who shall lift that wand of magic power, 
And the lost clew regain ? 
The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower 
Unfinished must remain." 




HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 



HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 125 



HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 

[Born 1S07. Died 1SS2.] 

TT may well be doubted if any one of the poets who have 
-*■ arisen during the last half-century has so closely touched 
the great popular heart as Longfellow Has. 

Many years ago Cardinal Wiseman used this language when 
speaking of Longfellow: "Our hemisphere," said he, "can- 
not claim the honor of having brought him forth; but he still 
belongs to us, for his works have become as household words 
wherever the English language is spoken. And whether we 
are charmed by his imagery, or soothed by his melodious 
versification, or elevated by the moral teachings of his pure 
muse, or follow with sympathetic hearts the wanderings of 
Evangeline, I am sure that all who hear my voice will join 
with me in the tribute I desire to pay to the genius of Long- 
fellow." 

If the true grandeur of a country lies in its illustrious men, 
then has no one who is identified with letters done more to 
exalt the American name at home and abroad than this emi- 
nent and gifted poet ; nor does it seem at all likely that the 
severest tests of time will lessen the love and admiration with 
which his writings have inspired the present generation of 
readers. 

Longfellow is the poet whom all the world understands. He 
is no mystic, no seer. His calm philosophy always teaches 
some worthy or enduring lesson. Even the rude Village Black- 
smith becomes under his hand an exemplar of human effort. 
His themes are as simple as his language is the perfection of 
melody and grace. If the right word is always a power, then 
may this poet's exquisite gift of language well stand for what is 
highest in the art of communicating one's ideas to others. His 



126 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

" Psalm of Life." his " Excelsior," simple homilies that they are, 
appeal to every one, however humble, who may have had or is 
capable of feeling an aspiration toward what is highest and 
noblest, but who needs the guiding hand to lead him on. Like 
Abou Ben Adhem, Longfellow may well claim to be written 
down as one who loves his fellowmen. And even if our blood 
is not always greatly stirred by reading Longfellow's poetry, it 
graciously admits us into a sanctuary consecrated to the purest 
and holiest emotions, where the strifes and tumults of the world 
pass unheeded by. To what worthier purpose could the poet's 
art be directed? He does not, indeed, seek to carry our hearts 
by storm, nor to arouse our passions, but rather to conquer 
through the grace of an abounding love for, and faith in his 
fellow-man. 

As a story-teller in verse, Longfellow has had no equal in his 
own time ; while few among the great poets of the past are his 
peers in the power of interesting or of entertaining an intelligent 
audience. Witness his " Tales of a Wayside Inn," as an exam- 
ple of this rare gift. We do not know whether the sonorous 
energy of rhythm in " Paul Revere's Ride " or the playful 
fancy of " The Courtship of Miles Standish " charm us most. 
In the first we can almost feel the sting of the spur, as Revere 
urges his excited steed on over the rough highway, while the 
rhythm itself keeps time to the quick beat of hoofs, as the 
eager horseman, with a wild shout on his lips, rides at head- 
long speed through village and farm, bearing his fatal message 
of war; and notwithstanding our later knowledge, the fear 
grows upon us, as we read, that the intrepid rider will be too 
late. Such ballads, too, as "The Wreck of the Hesperus," leave 
us with the feeling that we have been made actual lookers-on 
while the doomed vessel, with the frozen helmsman lashed to 
the tiller, and the maiden praying on the wave-swept deck, was 
being borne steadily on to her destruction. We doubt if the 
realism of this terrible picture has ever been excelled. 

We might go on from poem to poem, as wc would in 
some magnificent garden, plucking here a flower born of the 
poet's exuberant fancy, enjoying the beauties his finer instinct 



HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 127 

has pointed out, or tasting the rich fruitage that his wand of 
magic power has created. And they are the choicest fruits of 
the vineyard. Let us say, frankly, that in Longfellow's poetry 
we think every one will find something that meets a want or 
fulfils a longing of his nature. Guide, comforter, philosopher, 
friend, are all combined in the personality of Longfellow ; for 
it is he who speaks to us, not as the Pharisee spoke, but with 
the voice of abounding love, wisdom, and all charity. 

William Longfellow, the first English emigrant of the name, 
settled at Newbury, Massachusetts. He was a soldier in the 
disastrous expedition that Sir William Phips led against Quebec, 
and perished by drowning. The Longfellows had subsequently 
removed into the District of Maine, where Stephen Longfellow, 
the poet's father, was born. After graduating at Harvard, Ste- 
phen Longfellow began the practice of law at Portland ; and it 
was in this town, on the 27th of February, 1807, that Henry 
Wadsworth Longfellow came into the world. The future poet 
had both Pilgrim and Puritan blood in his veins. His father 
was a man of sound and scholarly attainments, whose position 
and means were such as to command for his son a favorable 
entrance into whatsoever career he might choose to adopt. 

At fourteen, young Longfellow entered Bowdoin, taking his 
place in the same class with Hawthorne. The boy Longfellow 
was then " very handsome, always well dressed, with no taste 
for any but refined pleasure." His slight but erect figure, his 
fair complexion, his clear blue eye, and abundant light browr* 
hair gave him a certain distinction among his fellows, who re- 
spected him for the purity of his tastes and his morals, and 
loved him for the gentle affability of his manners. Longfellow 
was, however, a conscientious student; and he speedily demon- 
strated to his classmates as well as to his instructors that there 
was no effeminacy of mind behind these rare personal traits. 
He left college distinguished for his scholarship. 

It was during his college life that Longfellow began to write 
poetry, — first for the newspapers of his native place and after- 
ward for the " United States Literary Gazette." From the first 
his verses attracted attention. A few of these pieces were 



128 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

subsequently reprinted in a group of " Earlier Poems," but the 
larger number remained unacknowledged by the author and 
uncollected until after his death. Longfellow was not yet eigh- 
teen when he was feeling his way to public favor by writing 
such poetry as " An April Day," " Woods in Winter," and the 
" Hymn of the Moravian Nuns." Bryant was then the foremost 
American poet ; and Longfellow has admitted that the author of 
" Thanatopsis," was the master who had inspired and guided his 
own youthful muse. 

From Bowdoin Longfellow went into his father's office to 
begin the study of law; but the college overseers had kept him 
in mind, and within a few months he was offered and accepted 
the appointment of professor of modern languages at his alma 
mater, with the privilege of spending three years abroad before 
entering upon his duties. These years were passed in travel, 
observation, and study, whose course may be traced in " Outre 
Mer," a volume of prose first published in 1835. This was not, 
however, Longfellow's first appearance as an author ; for he had 
in 1833 published a translation from the Spanish of " Coplas de 
Manrique." The original author, Don Jorge de Manrique, 
was a sort of Castilian Sir Philip Sidney, and like him was 
devoted to both arms and letters. But before these publica- 
tions had appeared, an event of importance to Longfellow's life 
had occurred. Upon his return from Europe he had assumed 
his duties at Bowdoin. In 183 1, at the age of twenty-four, he 
.married Miss Mary S. Potter, of Portland, and in 1833 his trans- 
lation of the " Coplas " was printed. 

We will suspend the continuity of our story only long enough 
to refer to a remarkable scene which took place at Bowdoin in 
1875, because it joins two eras in the poet's life. It was the 
fiftieth anniversary of Longfellow's graduation. The survivors 
of the class of 1825 had come together to celebrate the event 
and to renew old associations. Only thirteen members of this 
class were then living. Hawthorne was dead. These survivors, 
now grown old, assembled in the church as they had done in 
the old college days ; and when the venerable poet stood up and 
began to read his poem " Morituri Salutamus," the scene was 



HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 1 29 

indescribably affecting. Never before had those classic walls 
witnessed the like solemnity. Just before leaving for their 
respective homes the class met in a retired room of the college, 
and prayed together. Then, under the branches of the old tree, 
which was endeared to them by its many associations with their 
youthful sports, each took the other in silence by the hand, 
spoke a last farewell, and went his way. 

In 1835 tne professorship of modern languages at Harvard, 
made vacant by the death of Professor Ticknor, was tendered 
to, and accepted by Longfellow. He now made a second visit 
to Europe, and it was while there that his wife's death occurred. 
The " Footsteps of Angels " consecrates her memory in a spirit 
of beautiful resignation. 

Returning to Cambridge and to his duties at Harvard, Long- 
fellow soon established himself in the house that had formerly 
been the headquarters of Washington and was thenceforth to be 
his own home. Here much of his later poetry was written. In 
Washington's bedchamber Longfellow wrote " Hyperion " and 
" Voices of the Night." " Hyperion " contained many fine 
translations from the German poets, whose works were then 
almost unknown in America. The " Voices of the Night " was 
equally a revelation of the rise of a new poet among us. 

These two works surely established Longfellow's fame. 
Thenceforth his course was upward and onward. Space fails 
us to do more than enumerate the titles of some of his later 
contributions to literature. His " Ballads and other Poems " 
appeared in 1841 ; " Evangeline," in 1847; "The Song of Hia- 
watha," in 1855 ; " Courtship of Miles Standish," 1858; "Tales 
of a Wayside Inn," 1863; "Flower de Luce," 1867; "New 
England Tragedies," 1868; "Three Books of Song," 1872; 
Aftermath," 1874; " The Masque of Pandora," 1875 ; " Poems of 
Places," 1876-79; " Keramos," 1878; "Ultima Thule," 1880; 
"Michael Angelo," a posthumous work, 1883. 

Although in " Hiawatha " Longfellow had fully met the 
demand for an American poem, that he aimed at something 
broader than an American reputation is as clear as day. With 
him universality was a canon of literary art. So lately as 1853 

9 



130 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

an English journal of reputation could say, " They [the Ameri- 
cans] have not yet produced a great poet; but they have 
produced men, like Mr. Longfellow and others, who promise, 
at no distant day, to reach the highest summit of poetic art." 
The. promise was so far fulfilled that it is doubtful if any one 
of Longfellow's contemporaries is so widely read or so highly 
esteemed as he is. His poems have been translated into every 
cultivated tongue; and that universality which he instinctively 
felt to be the only measure of true greatness has welcomed him 
to the great brotherhood of cultivated nations as a benefactor 
of mankind. Art is indeed the interpreter of all languages. 

In 1843 Longfellow was again married, his second wife being 
Miss Frances Elizabeth Appleton, of Boston, whose tragic death 
(she was accidentally burned to death in her husband's library) 
left such a deep and lasting impression upon the poet's mind 
that for many years he was never known to refer to it. This 
happened in 1861. Two sons and three daughters were born 
of this marriage, — all of them in the historic Cambridge man- 
sion. In March, 1882, shortly after the completion of his 
seventy-fifth year, and after only a week's illness, whose fatal 
ending was not at first anticipated, the poet died in the fulness 
of his fame, lamented as few of the great ones of earth have 
been, but leaving behind so vital a part of himself that wc can 
scarcely say that he is dead. 

Longfellow was a man of noble and gracious presence, free 
from the littleness or hauteur that so often degrades great men, 
a friend to every call of humanity, a foe to every wrong, a 
guide and benefactor to all who sought his counsel or assist- 
ance, a patron of true worth, and a most devoted lover of the 
arts. No literary man of his century has left so sweet a remem- 
brance behind him, or, what is far more, so high an example 
of his own simple precept that 

" We can make our lives sublime." 

Longfellow had a grave and gentle humor that was most win- 
ning. He was a delightful companion and a charming host. 
His manner was the union of courtliness and of bonhomie, — 




HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 



HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 131 

the blending of a Sidney with an Agassiz. Calumny never 
approached, nor could flattery spoil, him. Though his hand 
will nevermore touch the pen, we say again that Longfellow 
is not dead, for his genius still abides with us. 1 



HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 

[Born 1812.] 

A T the mature age of forty Mrs. Stowe took up her pen to 
-*■■*- write what proved to be the greatest book of the cen- 
tury, with probably little or no idea of the extraordinary effect 
that it was destined to produce, — that her work was, in fact, 
the weapon by which slavery in the United States should 
receive its deathblow. This is not saying a word too much 
for the influence that effort of genius, " Uncle Tom's Cabin," 
exerted upon the public mind ; for what statesmen, politicians, 
political economists, with all the agitators of the antislavery 
school, had so far failed to bring about, — namely, the creation 
of an overwhelming popular sentiment against slavery, — Mrs. 
Stowe did almost with a stroke of the pen. By such humble 
means are the destinies of nations decided ! In the noti- 
slaveholding communities "Uncle Tom" created a feeling of 
national degradation, certain to recoil upon its cause, which 
feeling was greatly intensified by the almost unanimous voice 
of the outside world raised in condemnation of this sarcasm 
upon the name of free institutions. This voice of the people 
has often been compared with the voice of God. The revul- 
sion against slavery was instantaneous. And so " Uncle Tom " 
became, without any special purpose in its author, a great moral 
force. Emancipation was indeed a long time deferred ; yet it is 
undoubtedly true that by bringing slavery to the bar of an 

1 The portrait of Mr. Longfellow is from a picture selected by the poet himself, 
and pronounced by him to be the most satisfactory likeness he had ever sat for. 



132 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

aroused public opinion, and thus constituting it the one ab- 
sorbing question, political and moral, of the hour, its ultimate 
downfall was rendered a matter of certainty. 

" Uncle Tom " was a book that everybody could under- 
stand. The poor and down-trodden wept over it; the rich and 
powerful were haunted and reproached and humbled by it; 
while the slaveholders, seeing the whole civilized world arrayed 
against them through the agency of one weak and obscure 
woman, realized that at last slavery and the public conscience 
stood face to face. The event could not long be uncertain. 

Mrs. Stowe has, it is true, written much besides, but nothing 
that can compare with " Uncle Tom." That book began a new 
era. Her "mission" in the world — and the phrase has its 
true significance here — was achieved at a single stroke through 
the simple and truthful tale which flowed from her pen under 
the impulse of a noble passion that could not be restrained. 
Slavery was the fatal bequest of the founders of the Republic ; 
it was surrounded with safeguards ; it had created a privileged 
class, in whose hands it had always been an element of power 
in the nation ; and it was growing more and more arrogant and 
aggressive. In vain did a few philanthropic men try to make 
head against it. Slavery stood intrenched behind the Constitu- 
tion of the nation, and defied them. Nay more, scorn, abusive 
epithets, and violence were liberally meted out to this* weak 
band of agitators, even in the free section of the Union. Garri- 
son, Whittier, Phillips, Tappan, Birney, and their intrepid co- 
laborers were barely tolerated at home. In the slave States no 
one dared to raise a voice against the iniquitous domestic insti- 
tution. But "Uncle Tom's" myriad voices could not be silenced. 
An English writer of eminence has spoken of it as one of those 
books which insist upon being read when once begun. And 
read it was, both North and South. Slaveholders read it se- 
cretly. Resistance to the encroachments of slavery upon free 
territory began at this era. That resistance produced open war 
between the sections ; war brought about' emancipation ; and in 
a little more than ten years after the appearance of " Uncle 
Tom " no slave was lawfully held in bondage within the vast 



HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 133 

territorial limits of the American Union. We can now look 
back and see how it was that Mrs. Stowe did more to bring 
about this result than all other agencies put together. 

" Uncle Tom's Cabin, or Life among the Lowly," was pub- 
lished in 1852. Its success from a literary standpoint was 
prodigious; and as that success is the key to its moral influ- 
ence, we will give a few facts in relation to it. In a few weeks' 
time fifty thousand copies had been sold ; in a few months two 
hundred thousand had been struck off, and the demand was still 
for more. Within two years, it is said, two million copies had 
been spread throughout America and Europe, where it was 
quickly translated and scattered broadcast over the continent. 
Editions in nine different languages have been printed. It was 
dramatized and acted on the stage from one end of the North- 
ern States to the other, and in every capital in Europe, thus 
greatly enlarging the sphere of its influence by bringing the 
realism of its pictures of Southern life and manners home to 
multitudes of spectators. And notwithstanding the fact that 
slavery with all its accompanying evils has now been for twenty 
years dead and buried, the story continues to be read and 
acted, and has enduring interest, both as an incident of the 
greatest social convulsion of modern times and as portraying an 
extinct social phase with originality and power. In any case, 
we conclude that the history of the great civil conflict in the 
United States can hardly be read understandingly without a 
reference to " Uncle Tom " and its gifted author. 

In 1853, the year after the appearance of "Uncle Tom" in 
this country, Mrs. Stowe went to Europe, arriving in England 
in May. She was accompanied by her husband and by her 
brother, the Rev. Charles Beecher. "Uncle Tom" had already 
preceded her, and all classes were eager to see and do honor 
to its creator. She was welcomed at Stafford House by a 
most distinguished gathering, numbering many of the highest 
personages in the kingdom. Everywhere her reception was of 
the most flattering kind. In Edinburgh she was tendered a 
public banquet, at which the Lord Provost presided. The cere- 
monies were concluded with the presentation to Mrs. Stowe by 



134 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

ladies of Edinburgh of £i,ooo, in gold, the product of an 
" Uncle Tom Penny Offering," to be applied by Mrs. Stovve to 
the cause of emancipation. The ladies of Aberdeen presented 
her with £120 for the same purpose. Yet while the talented 
author was being thus feted and caressed, and while the press 
was saying the most flattering things of her, England was being 
flooded with cheap " Uncle Tom's," for which Mrs. Stowe never 
received a penny. 

The antecedents of such a woman are naturally interesting. 
Mrs. Stowe's mind was formed in a good school. Lyman 
Beecher, her father, was the son of a New England blacksmith, 
and had followed his father's trade until convictions of duty had 
carried him into the pulpit, where he became a commanding 
figure. Strong and sturdy common-sense were his prominent 
characteristics. It was while he was pastor of the church at 
Litchfield, Connecticut, and rising in fame as a pulpit orator, 
that Harriet w.as born. From Litchfield Lyman Beecher was 
called to the pastoral charge of the Hanover Street Presbyte- 
rian Church, in Boston, where he remained until 1832. In that 
year he removed to Cincinnati, Ohio, in order to assume the 
charge of Lane Theological Seminary, an institution founded 
by the New School Presbyterians for the purpose of preparing 
young men for the ministry of that denomination. Mr. Beecher 
remained at the head of the Seminary for eighteen years, until 
1850, when in consequence of the decline of the institution he 
returned to Boston. As these eighteen years formed the impor- 
tant period of Harriet Beecher's life, the history of Lane Sem- 
inary is to some extent that of the work which subsequently 
won for her an enduring literary fame. The year 1833 inau- 
gurated a bitter agitation of the slavery question ; and that 
agitation, begun by the Abolition Convention which met at 
Philadelphia, reached and disturbed the Seminary on the banks 
of the Ohio. This institution was soon in a blaze of excitement. 
It became a centre of active abolition feeling and effort. The 
merchants of Cincinnati, whose business relations with Ken- 
tucky were close and intimate, took the alarm. The mob, urged 
on by slaveholders or by those who sympathized with them, 



HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 135 

threatened to pull down the Seminary. Public opinion de- 
manded that its voice should be silenced, and it was silenced. 
The students then deserted it almost to a man, leaving the Fac- 
ulty to do what it could towards restoring to the institution its 
lost prestige. The Beechers were silenced with the rest. 

One member of the Faculty was the Rev. Calvin E. Stowe, 
Professor of Biblical Literature in the Seminary. Harriet 
Beecher married him in 1832, the same year that she went to 
Cincinnati. When this important event in her life took place, 
she was not quite twenty-one. She had previously taught a 
female school, with her sister Catherine, in Hartford, and the 
two sisters had opened a similar one at Walnut Hills ; so that, 
although still young at the period of the disorders at the Semi- 
nary, Mrs. Stowe was already an experienced observer of hu- 
man nature, with the added advantage of having always lived in 
an intellectual atmosphere in which her mind steadily expanded 
and matured. 

For eighteen years, then, Lane Seminary was Mrs. Stowe's 
home. We have seen that the effort to convert that institution 
into neutral ground had brought nothing but disaster to it or 
its friends. But such close contact with the horrors of slavery 
— and of all these none was more harrowing than the pursuit 
of many miserable fugitives into the free territory of Ohio — 
was every day increasing the antislavery feeling. Cincinnati 
soon became a battle-field of the two factions, who grew more 
and more exasperated and determined in their hostility towards 
each other as the conflict progressed. One protected the poor 
fugitives and aided them in their flight. The other retaliated 
by mobbing known abolitionists, destroying abolition presses, or 
by murderous assaults upon the free negroes of the city, who 
were shot down in the streets, and their quarters plundered and 
sacked, as if they had been the most dangerous enemies to 
public order. 

To all of these scenes Mrs. Stowe was an eyewitness. The 
road which passed her door was the one commonly spoken of as 
the " Underground Railroad; " for it was the route over which 
fugitive slaves made their escape from Kentucky to Canada. 



136 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

To more than one of these trembling outcasts her husband 
gave food, shelter, and a God-speed on his forlorn way to free- 
dom ; and to the sad chapter of actual experience thus gained 
by Mrs. Stowe, under conditions which burned its incidents and 
its lessons deeply into her memory, the world owes the pro- 
duction, a dozen years later, of " Uncle Tom." She had shed 
many tears over the unwritten wrongs of the slave, but she lived 
to see a world weeping over her touching story of these wrongs ; 
and, what is more, she has lived to see them redressed. 

" Uncle Tom" was not written, however, under the uncontrol- 
lable impulse of the moment. Mrs. Stowe herself alludes to the 
period of observation during her residence at Lane Seminary in 
these words : " For many years of her life the author avoided 
all reading upon or allusion to the subject of slavery, con- 
sidering it too painful to be inquired into, and one which 
advancing light and civilization would live down." We know, 
therefore, that she did not believe herself to be appointed in 
any special way an advocate of the antislavery cause ; but we 
have at the same time no difficulty in perceiving the strong 
tendency of her mind in that direction from the moment the 
opportunity to speak out presented itself. Until then her 
woman's heart bore the scar of an unhealed wound. That 
opportunity came at last. Upon his return to New England 
Professor Stowe had accepted the appointment of Divinity Pro- 
fessor at Bowdoin, and with his gifted wife had taken up his 
residence at Brunswick. It was there, while occupied with the 
cares of a family, that Mrs. Stowe received from Dr. Bailey, of 
the " National Era," a request for the great story, which first 
appeared in the weekly issues of that paper. Having once 
been a victim of mob violence in Cincinnati himself, no man 
could better appreciate the truth of " Uncle Tom " than Dr. 
Bailey. He knew and esteemed the Beechers. He had read 
with approval Mrs. Stowe's first volume of tales, " The May- 
flower," which she brought out in 1849. Upon this request, 
which was accompanied with a check for $100, Mrs. Stowe 
began to write during such intervals as could be snatched from 
household duties. Her ambition had been aroused in its true 




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WILLIAM CAXTON. 



WILLIAM CAXTON. 137 

direction. She wrote on with increasing force and intensity. 
We are told how absorbed and fascinated she became with her 
theme, and with what fidelity she reproduced the scenes that 
had filled her womanly soul with horror and indignation. But 
as yet " Uncle Tom " had made little impression upon the pub- 
lic. The "National Era" was a partisan newspaper of limited 
influence, '■ — so limited, indeed, that comparatively few persons 
are now aware that Mrs. Stowe's great novel first saw the light 
in its columns. 

Mrs. Stowe's subsequent literary labors have been eminently 
productive, so much so that no woman of her century has con- 
tributed more to good literature than she. But our purpose is 
limited to the presentation of the one work upon which rests 
her claim to the name, not alone of a benefactor to her race, 
but of humanity everywhere; and with that we must remain 
content. 



WILLIAM CAXTON. 

[Born 1412. 1 Died 1492.] 

T^HERE are some men who have lived and worked among 
-*- us in such a manner as to merit the name of " Bene- 
factors," whose legacy to posterity has been too great to be 
estimated, too pervading almost to be even felt. Like the 
immeasurably beneficial forces of nature, like the glorious 
sunlight, the life-sustaining heat, and water, the source and the 
emblem of purity, we are too much accustomed to them to be 
capable of appreciating them. Such is printing, the art by 
which these thoughts are at this very moment being conveyed, 
respected reader, to your mind. 

Four hundred and forty years ago, or thereabouts, — for 
exact figures are not attainable, — a German, who is now con- 

1 The exact date is not known. 



138 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

ventionally recognized as John Gutenberg, discovered the art 
of mechanically reproducing on paper, by the use of movable 
types, words and pages that had previously been only engraved 
on blocks of wood, as books are produced in China at this day. 
Printing was known to the ancients and was practised by them. 
Paper was common enough a century or two before. For 
years mankind had been blundering on the verge of the great 
discovery of typography. Cheap books of different kinds were 
on sale in every country of Europe, before types were thought 
of. But this man, by his invention of a simple mould for cast- 
ing characters, provided the world with facilities for its intel- 
lectual advancement, useful for all time, and capable of infinite 
utilization. All who have visited Strasburg have seen his 
statue, a fac-simile of which is appropriately placed in front of 
the government printing-office at Paris. At the base of it 
stands the grand inscription, Et la lumiere fut, — " And there 
was light." That light beamed, intellectually, from the print- 
ing-press as when heaven's own light burst out, materially, at 
the command of the Almighty. 

We need not recount the incidents of the life of the great 
proto-printer, — -his troubles at starting, the injustice his im- 
pecuniosity brought down upon him, his death imbittered by 
neglect, rendered the more satirical by the fact that he was the 
wearer of a courtier's dress. His art spread like wild-fire all 
over Europe. No modern inventor, even with the facilities of 
publication which we possess, and which were then wanting, 
has ever made such initial progress. Steam, railways, gas- 
lighting, and now the electric light, have passed through a long 
childhood ; printing attained its majority in a day. From 
France, Spain, Portugal, Italy, and even Russia, it spread with 
a velocity reminding one of the transmission of news in Macau- 
lay's Ode on the Armada. 

It took, however, nearly thirty years to reach England. 
Printing was invented about 1440; it was introduced into Eng- 
land not before 1476 or 1477. In 1450 the whole Bible in the 
Vulgate Latin was printed ; a copy of it (worth about ^4,000) 
may be seen in the British Museum. Yet for so many years 



WILLIAM CAXTON. 1 39 

did England, destined to occupy so pre-eminent a place in the 
intellectual traffic of the world, remain without the " art pre- 
servative of arts." 

The man who brought the British nation this gift was not a 
professional printer, not a craftsman. William Caxton — for 
that is our benefactor's name — never, in fact, became a good 
printer; early English books are not to be compared for ele- 
gance and taste to the contemporary productions of Continental 
countries. But he enjoyed the grand position of being tYitJirst 
printer in England, and brought over with him a blessing only 
comparable to that which was given to us by the first apostle of 
Christianity. 

The mind would like to dwell on the lineaments of such a 
man. Unhappily we have no pictorial presentment of his 
form and features; the reputed portrait is absolutely fictitious. 
So much historical interest, however, attaches to the conven- 
tional likeness of Caxton that our artist has reproduced it, as 
well as some of the most noteworthy scenes of his labors. Nor 
do we know much about his life. He is not mentioned in any 
public document of his day; his name appears in certain deeds 
and books of account, but not in connection with the achieve- 
ment that has immortalized him. All our knowledge of him is 
obtained from a peculiar gossiping habit he had of interlarding 
his writings with biographical reminiscences and personal sen- 
timents. A few of these must now be referred to ; but in 
this sketch we avoid mere historical or statistical details, with a 
view to appreciate the man's mission rather than to investigate 
his life. 

He was born — we do not know when — in the Weald of 
Kent. Of the locality even we are ignorant. It was then a 
rude, almost barbarous country. The language was so broad 
as to be hardly recognizable as English. In fact, a century and 
a half after the nativity of our benefactor, a topographical writer 
described it as " a desert and waste wilderness," " stored and 
stuffed with herds of deer and droves of hogs only." Caxton's 
father was probably a landed proprietor ; else he could neither 
have given him such a good education as he undoubtedly pos- 



140 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

sessed, or apprenticed him to a London mercer, which proved 
the foundation of his fortunes. 

After being at school, Caxton was sent to London, and 
apprenticed to Robert Large, member of the Mercers' Com- 
pany. The latter was, as documentary evidence proves, a man 
of great influence and wealth. He was a merchant as well as a 
mercer; and it is nearly certain that among his merchandise 
were books. They were, however, rare, and consequently 
costly; hence the mercer's apprentice was placed in favorable 
circumstances to cultivate a taste for reading, which otherwise 
could not have been gratified without an expense obviously 
beyond his reach. Robert Large was Lord Mayor of London 
in 1439-40; in the following year he died, leaving to Caxton 
twenty marks, — a very considerable sum in those days. We 
now begin to get glimpses of the career of the future printer 
from stray records, and find that shortly after the decease of 
his master he went abroad. In 1464 Edward IV. issued a com- 
mission to Caxton and another to be his ambassadors and pro- 
curators to the Duke of Burgundy, in order to arrange a new 
treaty of commerce. This was effected : trade with England, 
which had been suspended for many years, was resumed. 
Caxton appears to have remained abroad on the scene of his 
diplomatic success at Bruges. He employed his spare time in 
literary pursuits, and produced a book which would not, how- 
ever, commend itself to the taste of the present day. It is 
called " The Recuyell of the Histories of Troy," and was begun 
in 1468. It treated of chivalry, and its contents were a curious 
agglomeration of romance and fact, philosophy and facetiae, 
with a thread of pious aspiration running through the whole. 
The translation was handed about in manuscript, and was 
highly appreciated. We are now again on conjectural ground, 
and know not certainly how it came to be printed or by whom. 
Certain it was that the " Histories of Troy" was the first pub- 
lished book in the English language. It is not yet settled from 
whom Caxton learned the art or where. There are two emi- 
nent authorities on the subject, — Mr. Blades, of London, and 
Mr. Madden, of Versailles. The first believes that he learned it 



WILLIAM CAXTON. 141 

from Colard Mansion at Cologne ; the other, from Ulric Zell, 
of Bruges. A vast amount of controversy has ensued on this 
particular point. Caxton published several other books abroad, 
whose titles we need not specify. Suffice it to say, that after 
remaining out of his native land for about thirty years, he came 
back to London with a practical knowledge of the art of 
printing. 

In 1477 there was issued a book called " The Dictes and 
Sayinges of Philosophres " — " Emprynted by one William Cax- 
ton, at Westminster." It was the first book printed in England. 
Caxton's press was set up in the precincts of the sacred build- 
ing, and there he labored up to the time of his death. His 
publications are very numerous, his enterprise was indefatigable, 
and probably his financial success was not inconsiderable. 

We cannot here give a bibliographical list of " Caxtons," 
those precious volumes now worth sums averaging ^400 and 
,£500 each. But we must refer to one indicative in its tone of 
the prevailing sentiment of its author. It was written, as we 
know, from the words of an apprentice who survived his master, 
— Wynken de Worde, — when the old printer was just on the 
verge of the grave. The title is, " The Art and Craft to know 
well to Die," and in the commencement are the following 
words : — 

" When it is so, that what man maketh or doeth it is made 
to come to some end, and if the thing be good and well made 
it must needs come to good end ; then by better and greater 
reason every man ought to intend in such wise to live in this 
world, in keeping the commandments of God, that he may 
come to a good end. And then out of this world, full of 
wretchedness and tribulations, he may go to heaven unto God 
and his saints, unto joy perdurable." A very little later, in 
1492, Caxton had come to his own end. 

Such is a very rough outline sketch of the life of a real 
" benefactor," not of an age, but for all time. He was not a 
great scholar, like some of his contemporaries ; he seems to 
have eschewed politics and played no part in the eventful 
drama of his time; it is probable he did not die in affluent 



142 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

circumstances. But his life presents a variety of lessons and 
suggests many thoughts. His filial affection, his earnestness, 
his industry, his enthusiasm, and his rectitude are not unworthy 
of imitation in an age like our own, apt to undervalue such 
virtues. His piety was tinged with mediaeval superstition, yet 
was unaffected and sincere. He never overrated his work, 
although he must have foreseen its tremendous importance and 
significance. England may well be proud of such a man ; and 
although she has no monument of him in brass or stone, his 
memorial is universal. As was said of the great German proto- 
printer, his monument is "the frailest, but the most enduring, — 
it is The Book." 



SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN. 

[Born 1632. Died 1723] 

CHRISTOPHER WREN was born at East Knoyle, in Wilt- 
shire, the rectory of his father, Dr. Christopher Wren, Dean 
of Windsor, on the 20th of October, 1632. His uncle, Dr. 
Matthew Wren, who was successively Bishop of Hereford, 
Norwich, and Ely, was eminent in the ecclesiastical history of 
England. He was impeached, shortly after Archbishop Laud, 
for his devotion to the royal cause, but was never brought to 
trial, though he suffered a protracted imprisonment of nearly 
twenty years. Cromwell, who often met the young Christopher 
at his son-in-law Claypole's, sent a message by the youth to the 
Bishop that " he might come out of the Tower if he pleased." 
But the Bishop utterly refused, disdaining the terms proposed 
for his enlargement. 

Wren was one of those whose future eminence was early fore- 
seen, and whose riper years redeemed the promise of his youth. 
Like all great men he manifested large general powers, a versa- 
tility not arising from a smattering of a vast variety of knowl- 
edge, but from the grasp of those common principles that 




CHRISTOPHER WREN. 



SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN. 143 

underlie all knowledge, and which give the fortunate possessor 
not only the mastery over any special field of study, but a facil- 
ity of comprehension over the entire domain of knowledge. It 
is recorded that at the age of thirteen he had invented an astro- 
nomical instrument, an account of which he dedicated to his father 
in a Latin epistle. This essay was followed by others of the 
same kind. He was in infancy and youth extremely delicate in 
health. Wren received his early education under his father, 
and at the age of fourteen was sent to YVadham College, Ox- 
ford, where his attainments procured him the friendship and 
patronage of the most eminent persons, among whom were 
Bishop Wilkins and the celebrated Oughtred, who in the preface 
to his " Clavis Mathematica" mentions Wren as having attained 
at the age of sixteen such a knowledge in mathematics and in 
natural philosophy as gave promise of future eminence. Wil- 
kins introduced him to Prince Charles, Elector Palatine, as a 
prodigy. 

As early as 1645 he was one of a club of scientific men 
connected with Gresham College, who met weekly to discuss 
philosophical questions, — of that club from which sprung the 
Royal Society. More fortunate than his father and uncle, 
though he also lived in troublous times, he pursued his course 
straight to the object of his ambition while conflicting parties 
were exhausting themselves in acts of violence. It was not 
until Wren's time that the inductive process became duly 
understood and appreciated. It was the example of a few 
eminent men, of whom Wren was one, that first led the way to 
the adoption of the new philosophy, of reasoning gradually 
from particulars to those one step more general, and not, as 
formerly, adopting general positions hastily assumed from 
particular instances. But we must not tarry to dwell on his 
numerous contributions to science, — microscopical, astronomi- 
cal, mathematical, physiological, mechanical, etc. The inven- 
tion of the barometer was even claimed for him. He (in 
conjunction with Wallis, Huyghens, Newton, Leibnitz, and the 
Bernouillis) occupied himself with the investigation of the 
cycloid, which had been discovered by Pascal. He was also 



144 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

eminent as a demonstrator and anatomist, and originated the 
experiment of injecting various fluids into the veins of living 
animals. But to enter upon a detailed account of all the 
studies and discoveries of Wren would in fact be to give the 
history of natural philosophy in his age. 

And now we reach the history of his crowning work, the 
grand Protestant monumental edifice, St. Paul's. This cathedral 
is the triumphant record of the culmination of the Reformation 
in England, — of religious views as diametrically opposed to 
those which preceded them as the architecture of the present 
building to that which it supplanted. This fact must be imper- 
atively borne in mind in the contemplated internal decoration 
of the cathedral. For St. Paul's is the typical monumental 
edifice of what may be termed England's Protestant history. 
From every point of vantage in the suburbs its emphatic dome 
points a moral and caps the vast city. 

Soon after the Restoration Charles II. contemplated the 
repair of the old cathedral, which had become dilapidated 
during the Commonwealth, and its choir converted into a bar- 
rack. In 1660 a commission was issued in which Wren was 
named to superintend the restoration. He was long employed 
in considering the best mode of effecting this. The cathedral 
nad been partly repaired by Inigo Jones. But all these plans 
and projects of restoration were upset by the Great Fire in 
1666, which completed the ruin of the ancient edifice and ren- 
dered them impracticable. Charles had, during his residence 
abroad, imbibed a taste for the arts, particularly for architecture, 
and upon his deciding to repair St. Paul's, to reinstate Wind- 
sor Castle, and to build a new palace at Greenwich, had Wren 
sent for from Oxford in 1661 to assist Sir John Denham, the 
surveyor-general, who of course understood nothing about archi- 
tecture. Denham remained the surveyor with the salary; Wren 
as his deputy performing all the duties of the office. About 
this date he made the design for the Sheldonian Theatre at 
Oxford, which has a flat roof eighty by seventy feet, without 
arches or pillars to support it, and for the chapel of Pembroke 
Hall, Cambridge. 



SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN. 145 

In 1665 Wren went to Paris for the purpose of studying its 
architecture and preparing himself for his grand work. From 
France he had intended to have passed into Italy and to study 
Vitruvius amidst the remains of antiquity ; but this latter intent 
does not, unfortunately, appear to have been carried out. At 
this date the Louvre was in progress, one thousand hands 
being daily employed on the works; and he saw Bernini and 
Mansard. He surveyed all the great buildings in Paris, and 
drew plans of them. In a letter he says: "Bernini's design 
for the Louvre I would have given my skin for, but the old 
reserved Italian gave me but a few minutes' view. It was a fine 
little draught on five pieces of paper, for which he had received 
as many thousand pistoles." 

After the nomination of the commission for building St. 
Paul's there arose much discussion and cavilling as to the plan. 
Wren's first design was to have had but one order and no side 
oratories or aisles, as appears in the model still preserved ; but 
this part of his intention was overruled by the Catholic Duke of 
York (James II.), who looked forward to the reinstatement of 
his Church; and notwithstanding Wren protested even to tears 
it was in vain. Interference in matters of monumental art, irre- 
spective of such a motive as actuated the Duke of York, is 
peculiarly incidental to England, where people in general un- 
derstand so little of art. There is scarcely any great work of 
art, more especially, perhaps, of architecture, in which the 
artist has not been compelled to abandon somewhat of his 
original design. However, after considerable contention, Wren 
received an express order from the King to proceed ; and thirty- 
five years from the commencement of the building the highest 
and last stone was laid by Christopher, the son of the architect. 
Thus was this splendid edifice completed in thirty-five years 
by one architect, under one Bishop of London, at a cost of 
only ^"736,000, which was raised by a small impost on coals ; 
while St. Peter's, the work of twelve architects, took, under 
nineteen pontificates, one hundred and forty-five years to 
build. 

One of the principal objections urged against the design of 
10 



146 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

St. Paul's is that Wren adopted two orders and not one, as in 
St. Peter's; though this, as we have already stated, was his orig- 
inal intention. But Bramante could resort to the quarries of 
Tivoli, yielding blocks of nine feet in diameter, for the columns, 
whereas Wren had only the quarries of Portland, which could 
not supply blocks of a greater diameter than four feet, and 
were even of this dimension not easily procurable, on which 
account, and also that he might preserve the just proportions of 
the cornice (which Bramante by the failure of the stone had 
been compelled to diminish), he finally adopted the two orders. 
Wren took a mean proportion between the relative heights of 
the dome of the Pantheon and of St. Peter's, which shows its 
concave every way, and is lighted by the windows of the upper 
order that serves for the abutment of the dome itself, which 
is two bricks thick, every five feet having a course of bricks 
eighteen inches long bonding through the whole thickness. 

In consequence of the prejudice in favor of steeples, and that 
no disappointment might arise of the new church falling short 
of the old one, Wren, to give a greater height than the cupola 
would gracefully admit of, felt compelled to raise another struc- 
ture over the first cupola. For this purpose he constructed a 
cone of brick, so as to support the vast stone lantern which 
surmounts it. This cone was covered with an oak roof, and 
this again with lead in the same manner as the other parts of 
the cathedral. Between this outside covering and the brick 
cone there is a staircase to the lantern, lighted from the lantern 
above. The inside of the whole cupola was painted by Sir 
James Thornhill, under the sanction and supervision of Wren, 
in eight compartments. The design of these decorations is 
admirably adapted to its purpose, and we trust that the public 
will not permit it to be changed, except the figure subjects be 
repainted in color, as originally intended. 

A great deal has been said about Wren's intentions with 
regard to the decorations of the dome, etc. But he had proba- 
bly very little experience in such matters. He had never seen 
the great Italian examples. He certainly proposed mosaic as 
the method, but his own notions did not extend beyond the sug- 



SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN". 147 

gestion of some arabesques in the cupola and figures in the 
lunettes under the gallery. This may be gathered from the 
large contemporary engraving of the cathedral by William 
Emmet. To so trifling an extent did his conceptions in the 
first instance venture in this respect that the major portion of 
the dome is represented in the engraving as panelled. This 
panelling was probably filled up in order to make an even sur- 
face for Thornhill's paintings. As matters of architectural dec- 
oration Gibbon's carvings even are out of keeping with the 
edifice. The charge of plagiarizing the work of Michael An- 
gelo which is brought against Wren is sufficiently refuted by 
the comparison of numerous differences, both in general design 
and in detail. 

The delight which we may conceive Wren enjoyed in con- 
templating the growth of the vast edifice which his creative 
genius had called into existence was not undisturbed or unal- 
loyed. Many improper persons had been appointed with him 
in the commission, who, having selfish interests to serve and 
selfish feelings to indulge, were thwarted by the inflexible hon- 
esty of Wren, who exposed at once both their meanness and 
their ignorance. This was neither forgotten nor forgiven. It 
was not that his enemies endeavored to retard the progress of 
the building only. They procured a clause to be inserted sus- 
pending a moiety of his pittance (^200 a year) till the building 
should be completed. But Wren was not to be defeated by a 
cabal without a struggle. After having fruitlessly applied to 
powerful individuals, he brought his case before Parliament and 
obtained the justice he sought. His arrears of salary (.£1,300) 
were ordered to be paid. 

At the death of Queen Anne Wren lost the last of his royal 
patrons. His talents, his uprightness, and his fame were all for- 
gotten. The disposal of patronage in the new reign was most 
corrupt. Wren was turned out of office at the age of ninety to 
make room for a court favorite, who was soon after disgraced 
on account of his dishonesty as well as his utter incapacity. 
Wren, as Sir Richard Steele said of him, possessed a virtue as 
fatal in its effects as poverty, — modesty ! 



148 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Wren retired without a murmur from the busy hard world to 
his home at Hampton Court, and his son states that the vigor 
of his mind continued with a vivacity rarely to be found in per- 
sons of his age. It was not till within a short period of his 
death that he could relinquish the great aim of his whole life, 
namely, to be a benefactor to mankind. His chief delight to the 
very close of his life was to be carried once a year to see his 
great work. His dissolution was as placid as the tenor of his 
existence. On the 25th of February, 1723, his servant, conceiv- 
ing that he slept longer after dinner than was his wont, entered 
his room and found him dead in his chair. He received the 
chill honor of a splendid funeral, and his remains were deposited 
in the crypt under the choir of the cathedral, where a tablet 
bears the following inscription : — 

" Subtus conditur 
Hujus ecclesiae et urbis conditor 

Ch. Wren, 
Qui vixit annos ultra nonaginta 

Non sibi sed bono publico, 

Lector, si monumentum quaeris 

Circumspice." 

Wren was not only appointed the architect of St. Paul's, but 
for the rebuilding of the whole city after the Great Fire. 
Space, however, will not permit us to enlarge on his magnifi- 
cent project for raising a new metropolis and embanking the 
Thames, which was laid before the King and Parliament, but 
which vested interests prevented being carried out. Among 
his architectural works were the Monument; Greenwich Hospi- 
tal; Hampton Court; St. Mary-le-bow; St. Michael, Cornhill ; 
St. Dunstan in the East; St. Magnus, London Bridge; and the 
celebrated St. Stephen, Walbrook. Wren was nominated to 
the Savilian Professorship, and created LL.D. in 1651, chosen 
Fellow of All Souls in 1653, appointed Professor of Astronomy 
in Gresham College in 1657. On the death of Sir John Den- 
ham he became Surveyor of the Works, and was knighted in 
1674. In 1680 he was elected President of the Royal Society. 
He was made architect and commissioner of Chelsea Hospital, 



GEORGE FREDERICK HANDEL. 149 

and Comptroller of the Works at Windsor. He was M.P. for 
the borough of Plympton in 1685, and for Weymouth in 1700, 
and was deprived of the surveyorship of the royal works in 
1 71 8 through political intrigues. His friend and associate, Sir 
James Thornhill, was dismissed at the same time, and died of 
grief. 



GEORGE FREDERICK HANDEL. 

[Born 16S5. Died 1759] 

OF all the varied types of philanthropists, philosophers, men 
of science, humanitarians, and others, who have labored 
zealously and unselfishly for the good of mankind, there is not 
one, perhaps, who has rendered more signal service to all ranks 
and classes of society than the musician. He has not only 
afforded a refined and elevating occupation to thousands, not 
only invested the offices of religion with solace and consolation 
to many a troubled mind, but he has, over and over again, 
placed society under obligations of that peculiarly practical 
character, which is invariably regarded as the true test of sym- 
pathy with one's fellow-creatures. The assistance of his genius 
is enlisted for the purposes of charity more frequently than any 
other, not excepting that of the dramatic writer. A great ca- 
tastrophe occurs, a terrible fire, an appalling inundation, which 
deprives hundreds, it may be thousands, of their all or of their 
means of livelihood. The aid of Handel or Beethoven or 
Mozart or Mendelssohn, or others of the great brotherhood, 
is invoked, the works they have left us are performed, funds are 
raised, and the impoverished relieved and comforted. It has 
been finely said of the masterpiece of him whose life and 
character we propose to consider, that " it has fed the hun- 
gry, clothed the naked, and fostered the orphan." That this 
is literally true, appears from the fact that within the space 
of a few years the sum of .£10,300 was actually raised by 



150 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

performances of the " Messiah," and handed over to one charity 
alone, — the Foundling Hospital. Who can estimate the vast 
good that must have been directly effected in this one instance 
only? Enough, we may assume, at any rate, to entitle its au- 
thor to a high place among the "benefactors" of mankind. 

Like other men of genius, George Frederick Handel encoun- 
tered the gravest obstacles at the outset of his career. Born in 
1685, the son of a hard-worked doctor in Halle, he was des- 
tined for the law by the latter, who viewed with the utmost dis- 
quietude, and even disgust, the passion for music displayed by 
his son almost as soon as he could speak. Accordingly all 
instruments were removed out of reach ; he was not allowed to 
visit friends who possessed any ; and he was set to learn Latin 
as a solid corrective to his wild ambition. The boy, however, 
was not to be daunted. He outwardly submitted, but contrived 
after a time to procure an old clavichord, which he smuggled 
up to his bedroom, and on which he played away in fear and 
trembling during the long winter nights when every one else 
was asleep. One day, when he was about five years old, his 
father set off to visit a relative at the court of the Duke of Saxe- 
Weissenfelds. His little son implored to be allowed to accom- 
pany him. The request was refused; but, nothing daunted, he 
started off and followed, until his father was perforce compelled 
to lift him into the vehicle. On reaching their destination, 
while Herr Handel was paying his respects at the palace, 
George wandered off and found his way into the chapel, where, 
perceiving the organ open, he promptly sat down and com- 
menced to play. The sounds attracted the Duke, — himself a 
musician, — and he proceeded to the gallery and discovered the 
boy at the instrument. At once struck with the marvellous tal- 
ents he displayed, and having ascertained that his father was 
not doing much to help him, he remonstrated with the latter, 
and after some little difficulty obtained from him a promise to 
interfere no further with the evident bent of his son, impressing 
upon him that he should assist by every means in his power, 
instead of throwing obstacles in the way of such wonderful abil- 
ities. His father yielded, apparently with rather a bad grace, 



GEORGE FREDERICK HANDEL. 151 

and Handel returned to Halle in the most exuberant spirits. 
To such an accident was due, in all probability, his preserva- 
tion from a profession in which he would have lived and died a 
nonentity. 

From that auspicious moment the history of Handel is but 
an unbroken record of the most intense, unremitting energy. 
Almost without cessation from that date to the year of his 
death he continued to pour forth the exhaustless resources of 
his prolific imagination. At seven years of age he was master of 
the spinet; at eight he was apprenticed to Sackau, the organist 
of Halle, where we find him composing a sacred motet, or can- 
tata in eight parts, every week. He remained here four years, 
during which his industry and perseverance enabled him to 
make himself thoroughly acquainted, not only with the organ, 
but also with the violin, harpsichord, and hautboy. His predi- 
lection for the latter was very marked, as may be seen from the 
frequency with which he composed for it in after years. At 
fourteen he went to Berlin, where he attracted the attention of 
the Elector of Brandenburg, who wanted to send him to Italy ; 
but both Handel and his father demurred to this proposal. He 
accordingly returned to Halle, where his old master, Sackau, 
had, with a candor that did him credit, admitted to every one 
that he could do him no more good, for the pupil knew more 
than the master. His father dying in 1703, he went to Ham- 
burg; and Matheson, whom he met there, describes the effect 
his first public performance created, — an effect heightened by 
the fact that in a spirit of mischief he had previously affected 
great ignorance. Here his public career as a composer practi- 
cal!}- commenced, for on the 30th December, 1704, was per- 
formed his first opera, " Almira." It met with great success, as 
did his second venture, " Nero," early in the following year. 

A remarkable feature in Handel's character appears to have 
been his independence, and a certain consciousness of, and 
pride in, his own genius, which, though very far removed from 
conceit, caused him to disdain offers of assistance of a flattering 
nature, which most men in his position would have accepted 
with effusive gratitude. An instance of this occurred in 1698, 



152 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

when he declined the Elector of Brandenburg's offer to send 
him to Italy. Having, however, in 1709 by his own industry 
and economy accumulated sufficient funds to take him there, 
he set out for the classic land of poetry, music, painting, and 
sculpture, and within a few months of his arrival at Venice he 
produced the opera of " Agrippina," which, composed at their 
request, was received with intense enthusiasm by the Vene- 
tians, and greeted with cries of Viva el caro Sassone, — " Long 
live the dear Saxon." It had a run of thirty nights. From 
Venice he went to Rome, where he was fortunate enough to 
obtain an introduction to Cardinal Ottoboni, one of the most 
appreciative and generous patrons that music has ever seen in 
Italy or elsewhere. The Cardinal himself was a man of great 
musical taste, and every week the grand salon of his palace was 
thrown open for the performance of an instrumental concert. 
At these reunions Handel proved a great acquisition, and it was 
under the Cardinal's roof that he composed " II Trinonfo del 
Tempo." From Rome he went for a short time to Naples, where 
his " Acis e Galatea " took the town by storm. Towards the end 
of 1 7 10 he returned to Germany, en route for England, and pro- 
ceeded in the first instance to the court of the Elector of 
Brandenburg, who settled on him a pension of 1,500 crowns 
to induce him to stay. Handel, however, wa«s bent on England, 
where he perceived his genius would have abundant scope ; and 
the close of the year 17 10 saw him in London, though he re- 
tained his German pension. In the spring of the next year 
the Elector of Brandenburg ascended the English throne as 
George I. ; and it appears that Handel, in consequence of his 
determination not to return to Germany, had incurred his dis- 
pleasure. This did not affect his reception in London, however, 
which was exceedingly favorable ; and an opportunity soon oc- 
curred which enabled him to make his peace with the King. At 
a water-party given by the latter, Handel, through the interest of 
a friend at court, obtained an opportunity during the excursion 
of surprising his Majesty with some exquisite music he com- 
posed for the occasion. So great was the King's delight with 
the composition, that, on hearing whose it was, he instantly 



GEORGE FREDERICK HANDEL. 153 

ordered Handel to be brought before him, and there and then 
conferred on him a pension of ^200 a year, which was soon 
afterwards increased by £200 more, when he was intrusted with 
the musical education of the young princesses. From 171 5 to 
1 71 8 he lived with Lord Burlington, a nobleman who, disgusted 
with the noise and bustle of the fashionable world of London, 
which then centred round the Strand and Charing Cross, had 
built for himself, we are quaintly told, " a country mansion in 
the fields of Piccadilly," to which he added a beautiful chapel, 
on the organ of which Handel found full scope for the exercise 
of his wonderful powers. At this time he had begun to attract 
attention, and in 17 19 and 1720 he had reached what was not 
perhaps the most famous but certainly the most enjoyable pe- 
riod of his life. The two latter years he spent with the Duke 
of Chandos at Cannons. The Duke was one of the most 
remarkable men of his remarkable age. Having amassed pro- 
digious wealth as Paymaster-General under Queen Anne, his 
chief ambition was to lavish it in the encouragement of art 
and in the advancement of the sciences. His .residence at Can- 
nons, near Edgware, was adorned and embellished on a scale 
of almost barbaric splendor ; and not the least remarkable 
thing about it was, that, while marble, granite, and other 
indestructible material figured largely in its construction, to 
the cost of ,£230,000, yet within ten years of the Duke's death 
there was not a trace of it to be found, — a doom that had been 
foretold for it in the most singular manner by one who had 
been a frequent guest within its walls. Not far from the man- 
sion was a church erected in the Italian style, and here Handel 
was installed as chapel master. Schoelcher relates that Dr. 
Pepusch was his immediate predecessor, but that the Duke, 
who " loved to worship God with the best of everything," one 
day invited Handel to play, and Pepusch, with a generosity 
that did him infinite credit, candidly admitted his rival's superi- 
ority, and resigned in his favor. Handel accordingly took up 
his abode for two years with the Duke, and set to work with 
characteristic energy. It was here that he composed the two 
Chandos Te D earns and the twelve Chandos Anthems, — works 



154 • OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

among the grandest he ever wrote, but now among the least 
known. Indeed, it is a singular reflection that, in spite of the 
appreciation of the great composer shown by the present 
generation, so prolific was his genius that a large proportion 
of his best and grandest compositions are lying at this mo- 
ment dormant and unrecognized. Let us hope that some enter- 
prising caterer for the musical public will erelong have the 
courage to disinter these masterpieces now lying buried amid 
the sands of an unmerited oblivion. Handel's operas, for in- 
stance, are now seldom, if ever, even mentioned, but many of 
them rival his oratorios in beauty ; indeed, some of the most 
favorite airs in the latter are founded on a theme he had previ- 
ously conceived in an opera. His Passion Music, too, is emi- 
nently beautiful, and it is said he himself preferred it to the 
" Messiah." 

Handel appears to have considered that at Cannons he had 
reached the highest point of his fortunes. Under the protec- 
tion of a powerful and munificent patron, with unlimited means 
at his command for the cultivation of his magnificent genius to 
the utmost, with his reputation as the first musician of the age 
fairly established, he seemed to have attained the summit of 
his ambition. Yet, at this time, the sweet harmonies of the 
" Messiah," the grand choruses of " Israel in Egypt," and the 
touching recitatives of "Samson" had not ravished the ears and 
delighted the hearts of the musical world. The great master- 
pieces, the names of which are household words in our day, 
were then unconceived, and yet their author was known as the 
most consummate musician of the day. What a pity it is that 
we never hear the works which had already gained for him a 
European reputation ! 

In 1720 Handel entered upon the direction of the Royal 
.Academy of Music, and plunged into that troubled career of 
operatic management which in a few years ended in grave 
pecuniary embarrassment, and from which he was compelled to 
retire in disappointment and defeat. His independence of 
character soon involved him in serious difficulties with the 
aristocratic patrons of the Italian Opera, whom in those days 



GEORGE FREDERICK HANDEL. 1 55 

it was indispensable to propitiate; and his frequent quarrels with 
the artists he engaged — Carestini, Cuzzoni, and finally Sene- 
sino — eventually culminated in a rival establishment being 
started, and an active cabal set on foot to injure him. It is 
not a pleasant task to recall these years of Handel's life, and 
we will not therefore linger over them. Suffice it to say that 
in 1 741 he decided to leave England and try his fortunes in 
Ireland, whither he had been frequently invited. Accordingly, 
after paying a memorable visit to a friend in Leicestershire, 
— memorable for the fact that within the marvellous space 
of twenty-four days he composed both the " Messiah" and 
" Samson," — he made his way to Chester, whence, having re- 
hearsed the " Messiah," he proceeded to Dublin, and immedi- 
ately commenced a series of concerts which were well received. 
After a short delay the " Messiah " — or, as he then called it, the 
" Sacred Oratorio " — was performed, and produced a profound 
impression. After a prosperous stay of nine months in Ireland, 
he returned to England, and produced " Samson," which, favored 
no doubt by the reception of the "Messiah " in Ireland, was wel- 
comed cordially by the musical world of London. From this 
time Handel continued to produce oratorios till within a short 
space of his death ; but, with the exception of the two just men- 
tioned, they were almost entirely pecuniary failures. Nothing 
daunted by these repeated failures, he again plunged into the 
cares and anxieties of management, and with an almost incred- 
ible fertility wrote opera after opera, of which no sooner was 
one produced than it was withdrawn for the next. Many of 
these he considered among his finest works, but they quite 
failed to satisfy the vitiated musical taste of that day. Handel, 
however, remunerated his performers so generously that in 
1745 he found himself again in difficulties, and compelled 
temporarily to suspend payment. Thanks, however, in great 
measure to the steady friendship of George II., he persevered, 
and, being in the enjoyment of a permanent income of ^600 a 
year from pensions granted him by the Court, he gradually 
retrieved his fortunes, and spent the closing years of his life in 
comfort. 



156 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Time rolled on, and when past seventy Handel had the mis- 
fortune to become almost totally blind ; but the energy that had 
stood him in such good stead in earlier life did not desert him 
now, and the fine oratorio of " Judas Maccabaeus," composed 
after his misfortune had overtaken him, testified that neither his 
'genius nor his courage had departed with his sight. He con- 
tinued up to the end to conduct his own oratorios at the organ, 
the only difference he made being to improvise the accompani- 
ments, the orchestra waiting for. the signal of a shake from him 
to introduce the choruses. 

It must have been a touching sight to see the grand old man 
led on to the stage, tottering and helpless till he was seated at 
the organ, when, as it were, his genius would come to his aid, 
his imagination would take fire, and he would descant with all 
his old power and vfvacity. His last public appearance was 
on the 6th of April, 1759, and he died peacefully that day week, 
the 13th, — a fancy he had frequently expressed that he might 
die on a Friday being thus strangely gratified. He was buried 
in Westminster Abbey ; and amid all the mighty dead avIio lie 
there, his resting-place is not the least illustrious. Of him it 
may be truly said that he devoted a lifetime to one of the most 
ennobling of all avocations, which he did more to ennoble than 
any that went before or have come since. His style will be 
ever memorable, no less for the loftiness of his themes than 
for the grandeur and simplicity of his conceptions. While his 
compositions attract by their sweet and touching harmonies, 
they inspire awe and solemnity by the majesty of their cho- 
ruses. In this combination Handel appears to surpass all 
musicians, though in elegance and brilliancy others may bear 
away the palm. The former are, perhaps, the characteristics 
which the ordinary mind can appreciate best, and they in all 
probability account for the popularity of those compositions of 
the great master in which they appear most conspicuous. 

He was bitterly attacked during his management of the 
opera, but he opposed to all the intrigues and machinations 
directed against him the " triple brass " of an indifference 
founded on a consciousness of his own genius. When person- 




WILLIAM HOGARTH. 



WILLIAM HOGARTH. 1 57 

ally crossed, however, his outbreaks were vehement, and the 
presence of royalty itself never prevented the free expression of 
his indignation, when, during the performance of any of his 
works, conversation was indulged in by those present, or want 
of appreciation otherwise shown. But these were faults inci- 
dental to his bold, self-reliant nature, and as such should meet 
with the forbearance of the historian. Take him for all in all, 
it will be long ere the world looks upon his like again, — long 
before the creations of his magnificent genius cease to move the 
hearts and to sway the imaginations of mankind. 



WILLIAM HOGARTH. 

[Born 1697. Died 1764.] 

TV/TORE than a century ago the fashion in art, in architecture, 
-L»-*- and in literature was classic. We see the evidences in 
the dreary edifices of that time, and we wonder at the statues 
then erected of Englishmen shivering in the toga or strutting in 
the buskin of antiquity. Literature was even more stilted, 
dreary, and unnatural. When Benjamin West painted the 
death of General Wolfe, he scandalized the world of art critics 
by the innovation of representing him in the costume of the 
time. Hitherto most pictures had consisted of Romans or 
Greeks ; and when Sir Joshua Reynolds, a great stickler for clas- 
sicality, saw the picture, he was compelled (though after great 
hesitation) to exclaim, " I am wrong, and West is right." To 
West seems to have been given the entire credit of the reform. 
In this, however, William Hogarth has been overlooked, — a 
natural consequence, probably, of the fact that he was never 
" fashionable." Charles Lamb has pointed out, with his accus- 
tomed felicity but with more than ordinary force, the intense 
power possessed by Hogarth in raising the humblest and most 
wretched scene into a subject of the highest moral interest. 



158 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

He is very happy, for instance, in his description of the subject 
of Gin Street. He makes the remark, " I have seen many turn 
away from it, not being able to bear it. The same persons 
would perhaps have looked with complacency on Poussin's 
celebrated picture of the 'Plague at Athens.'" 

Although taste has greatly changed since Hogarth's time, 
and those of his works which had much of the coarseness of 
the period never now see the light, yet his grander productions 
— those in which he attacked the vices and follies of the age — 
are classed, and most deservedly, in the front rank of art. Rising 
from obscurity, he made a name even in the age in which he 
lived, when there was but little patronage for true merit. He 
says, in his Memoirs : " I was born in the city of London, 
November 10, 1697. My father's pen, like that of many au- 
thors, did not do more than put me in a way of shifting for 
myself. As I had naturally a good eye and a fondness for 
drawing, shows of all sorts gave me uncommon pleasure when 
an infant, and mimicry common to all children was remarkable 
in me. An early access to a neighboring painter drew my 
attention from play, and I was at every possible opportunity 
employed in making drawings." His father consulted his son's 
indications of talent as far as his limited means would allow, 
and he was articled to a silver-plate, or what is technically 
called a " bright," engraver. But he aspired to something 
better than engraving griffins on teapots, and worked with en- 
thusiasm to make himself a perfect draughtsman. Mr. George 
Augustus Sala, in his celebrated series of essays on William 
Hogarth, published in the early numbers of the "Cornhill Mag- 
azine," describes this portion of the great artist's. career in a 
most interesting and exhaustive manner ; in fact, the whole of 
the papers possess remarkable power. On leaving his master 
he established himself in business on his own account, and con- 
tinued to practise the trade to which he had been bred, — en- 
graving shop bills, coats of arms, and figures on tankards, etc. 
He then got employment in making designs and engraving 
frontispieces for publishers ; the most important of these was 
a set to illustrate Butler's "Hudibras," published in 1726. Soon 



WILLIAM HOGARTH. 1 59 

afterwards he began to seek employment as a portrait painter. 
These performances were generally small family pictures, which 
he calls " conversation pieces." They are about twelve to fif- 
teen inches in height; and as his prices were low they were 
very popular. In 1729 an event of a romantic nature somewhat 
varied his" pursuits, — he contracted a stolen marriage with the 
daughter of Sir James Thornhill, the then fashionable painter 
and member of Parliament. Sir James at first was furious, but 
after some time he relented, and a reconciliation was effected. 
It is said that the admiration Sir James had for a series of prints 
produced by Hogarth in 1 73 1 , and entitled the " Harlot's Prog- 
ress," was the cause of his forgiveness. These were very popu- 
lar and created a great sensation. Success encouraged Hogarth 
to produce another set in 1735, which he called the "Rake's 
Progress ; " but the most popular of the whole series then, as 
now, was the " Marriage a la Mode." These were not engraved till 
1745. For the " Harlot's Progress " twelve hundred subscribers' 
names were entered. The subject was dramatized in various 
forms, and it was even drawn on fans. The merits of the pic- 
tures, however, were not appreciated, and Hogarth, too proud to 
reduce his prices, determined to put them up to public sale; 
but instead of the usual form of auction, he devised a complex 
plan with the view of excluding picture-dealers, to whom he 
had a mortal aversion (an aversion which seems still to per- 
meate the profession), and to induce men of wealth and position 
who wished to purchase to judge for themselves. But the 
scheme failed. Nineteen of the principal pictures produced 
only £427 ys., not averaging .£22 10s. each. The " Harlot's 
Progress" passed into the possession of Mr. Beckford, of Font- 
hill Abbey ; but five pictures were destroyed at the fire. The 
" Rake's Progress " was purchased by Sir John Soane, the emi- 
nent architect, and are still to be seen in the museum in Lin- 
coln's Inn Fields. "Marriage a la Mode" was sold in 1750, 
when only one bidder appeared, and to him they were knocked 
down at the preposterously low price of £1 15 10s. Mr. Anger- 
stein purchased them for ^1,381, and they are now in the 
National Gallery. It would be a curious thing to know how 



l60 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

much they would bring at the present moment. In judging of 
Hogarth's talent there can be but little difference of opinion. 
He possessed that essential quality in a great artist of inventing 
his own subject, — unlike many of the profession, who go to 
other people's brains for their pictures. In fact, whenever he 
had to take a subject from any one else he always failed. Evi- 
dence of this fact may be seen at the Magdalen Hospital, — the 
" St. Paul Preaching." 

When we look at the absolute work in his pictures, it is sim- 
ply marvellous. The painting of the countess's head in the 
second picture of " Marriage a la Mode " is a wonderful speci- 
men of technical skill. Again, how beautifully the perspective 
of the background is carried ! One cannot help wondering if 
Hogarth really took out his perspective himself, instead of call- 
ing in architectural aid, as is done by some of our modern paint- 
ers. In a brief article like the present it is impossible to dwell 
long on the wondrous beauties of that 07ie series alone ; but as 
long as art is appreciated, those six pictures will always be 
looked upon as the production of a man of the highest genius. 
At one time his earnings must have been wretchedly inadequate 
to his sustenance, and he must have made most of his income, 
to use a well-known phrase, from " Pot-boilers." He has left 
an account of his own life which contains some curious and 
interesting matter concerning his own modes and motives of 
thought. He also wrote verses, which, though containing some 
humor, were rugged, and in some cases coarse. His most im- 
portant literary work is the " Analysis of Beaut)-," in which he 
endeavored to fix the principles of taste. He struck out the 
idea that the fundamental form of beauty, either in nature or in 
art, is the serpentine line. The work shows great originality 
and some power of analysis. William Hogarth marks an era, 
so to say, in English art, and his name is undoubtedly a 
" household word." It seems a disgrace to his profession that 
the house in which he lived so long at Chiswick is going to 
decay. True, one artist of well-known fame, a resident in the 
neighborhood, tried to buy it when it was put up for auction ; 
but a tradesman in the vicinity, fancying from the anxiety 



WILLIAM HOGARTH. l6l 

shown by the artist that there was spme unknown pecuniary 
value in the place, outbid him, and the country residence of 
the great English artist is now a dairy. The latter days of 
Hogarth were imbittered with his well-known squabble with 
Wilkes. It was a quarrel unworthy of either the painter or the 
politician. He spent the summer of 1764 at Chiswick, and the 
quiet and fresh air seemed to revive his strength so much that 
all thought he would long be spared. But the amendment was 
only temporary, and on the 26th day of October of the same 
year this truly great English painter passed to his rest. 

The picturesque churchyard of Chiswick contains the plain 
tomb erected to his memory, which tomb some years ago was 
falling into decay, and which was, by the liberality of a lover of 
art, put into a decent state. How odd it seems that it is often 
to private generosity we have to look to keep for us the memo- 
rials of our great teachers ! Hogarth's great friend, the friend 
he had so often painted and the friend to whom he was so 
greatly attached, wrote the epitaph on his tomb : — 

" Farewell, great painter of mankind, 
Who reached the noblest point of art, 
Whose pictured moral charms the eye, 
And through the eye correct the heart. 
If genius fire thee, reader, stay ; 
If nature touch thee, drop a tear ; 
If neither move thee, turn away, 
For Hogarth's honored dust lies here." 

D. Garrick. 

Ruskin, the great art critic of the age, says that posterity will 
scarcely care about our pictures representing costume and man- 
ners of the Middle Ages, but will probably be much more inter- 
ested in pictures depicting the costume and manners of the day 
at the present time. Has not Hogarth proved this opinion to 
be right? What a source of interest it is to go through folios 
of his engravings, to dwell on his pictures, to study the cos- 
tumes, the furniture of the rooms ! He painted life as he saw 
it, and consequently in his work there is that quality of individ- 
uality which stamps every picture that is painted from nature. 



162 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Setting aside the great artistic quality of his works, their truth- 
fulness, as borne out by the literature of the day, gives them 
for the student a peculiar value, and places them among the 
truly reliable sources of contemporary history. 



JOSIAH WEDGWOOD. 

[Born July, 1730. Died Jan. 3, 1795.] 

THERE are few lives the importance of whose bearings on 
industry and commerce it is more difficult to summarize 
than that of Josiah Wedgwood, the " father of British potters; " 
and fewer still whose influence has been, and will continue to 
be, so widely felt. 

Born in an age when real art, as connected with fictile manu- 
factures, was next to unknown, surrounded by difficulties not 
easy to surmount, with ignorance to deal with on every side, 
and possessed of anything but a robust constitution to grapple 
with his many obstacles, Josiah Wedgwood, by his own indus- 
try, his natural genius, his "keen perception for the beautiful, 
his innate love for science, and his own indomitable persever- 
ance, made for himself a name and a fame that are imperish- 
able, and gave that impetus to the potter's art that has resulted 
in its becoming not only one of the most beautiful, but assur- 
edly the most important and successful, of British branches of 
industry. He came into the world a member of a family of em- 
inent potters, in the midst of a district consecrated to that art, 
at a time when rapid strides had begun to be made in the form 
and the decoration as well as in the " body " of various wares ; 
and he devoted himself untiringly, throughout his long and busy 
life, to the improvement and development of that art, with a 
result that was as rapid as it has been firm and enduring. 

Starting in life the youngest of a family of thirteen children; 
losing his father, Thomas Wedgwood, the well-to-do potter of 



MTEJXdWOOD 




JOSIAH WEDGWOOD. 163 

the Churchyard Works at Burslem, when only nine years of 
age ; apprenticed at the age of fourteen to his brother Thomas 
for five years ; afflicted with illness and incapacitated from 
much bodily labor during his apprenticeship ; thrown on his 
own resources when only a little over nineteen with a legacy of 
twenty pounds to start in life ; entering into partnership first 
with Harrison, a practical potter, and next with Whieldon, the 
most eminent potter of his day, and with whom he produced 
many new varieties of wares and glazes ; commencing business 
entirely on his own account, and working energetically at his 
trade, — . Josiah Wedgwood found his genius and enterprise so 
well rewarded that he gradually increased his operations until 
they resulted in the founding of a new village, " Etruria," by 
him, and the establishment of a trade that has been of imme- 
diate practical benefit to thousands of people in the district, and, 
collaterally, to the whole of the civilized world. 

He thus, by improving and assisting to develop an important 
branch of industry, and by his many and valuable inventions 
and discoveries connected with that art, became a benefactor 
to mankind, and sowed the seeds from which have sprung 
England's proud pre-eminence in ceramic art. 

But it was not only in pottery that Wedgwood benefited 
mankind. He did much to improve the roads in his native 
county " as a -means to the end " of developing its trade, and 
he was one of the most energetic of the promoters and su]P 
porters of water communication by means of canals between 
town and town. In conjunction with his friend Brindley, and 
with the incentive of the Duke of Bridgewater's success and his 
ultimate aid, the " Grand Trunk Canal " was formed, and the 
proud task of cutting the first sod was assigned to him. " If for 
no other reason," it has been remarked, " the part he took in 
carrying out to a successful issue the scheme of canal commu- 
nication, to which undoubtedly the Staffordshire Potteries owe 
their prosperous increase, would fully entitle Josiah Wedgwood 
to the thanks of his country and to be ranked among the fore- 
most benefactors of mankind." 

Of the character of Josiah Wedgwood it has been written 



164 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

in these words, that he was " one of the most wonderful of all 
the ' self-made men ' a nation of great and noble geniuses has 
ever produced. Not only did he stand out as a clear statue 
from the men of his own time, but in high and bold relief from 
those of every time and every age. Original in thought, far- 
seeing and clear in his perceptions; with a mind capable of 
grasping the most difficult problems and working them out to 
a successful issue ; with a firmness of purpose and a determina- 
tion which carried him safely through all his schemes ; a power 
of wrestling with and overthrowing every obstacle which came 
in his way; a genius which soared high above his fellow- 
laborers in art, and led them on to success in paths unknown to 
them before ; with an energy, a perseverance, and an industry 
which never flagged ; an unswerving fixedness of purpose which 
yielded not to circumstances, however adverse they might seem ; 
with a heart warmed by kindliness, goodness, and charity to all 
men, and a mind imbued with that true religion, a conscientious 
discharge of his duty to God and man ; with a strict probity 
and a scrupulous adherence to all that was honorable and 
right, — Josiah Wedgwood hewed out for himself a path through 
the world-jungle which surrounded him that led him to the 
highest point of worldly prosperity, and earned for him a name 
which has been, and always will be, received with honor." It is 
not always that laudation on tablet or tombstone is deserved by 
ikose whose memory is intended to be perpetuated, but in the 
case of Josiah Wedgwood the lines in Stoke Church were truly 
merited. The tablet, besides bearing a Portland and an Etrus- 
can vase, has a sculptured medallion of the " father of potters," 
Josiah Wedgwood, 

" Who converted a rude and inconsiderable manufacture into 

an elegant 

Art and an important part of national commerce. 

By these services to his country he acquired an ample fortune, 

Which he blamelessly and reasonably enjoyed, 

And generously dispensed for the reward of merit and the 

relief of Misfortune. 

His mind was inventive and original, yet perfectly sober 

and well-resrulated ; 




JOHN FLAXMAN. 



JOHN FLAXMAN. 165 

His character was decisive and commanding, without rashness 

or arrogance ; 

His probity was inflexible, his kindness unwearied ; 

His manners simple and dignified, and the cheerfulness of 

his temper was the natural reward of the activity 

of his pure and useful life. 

He was most loved by these who knew him best, 

And he has left indelible impressions of affection and 

veneration 

on the minds of his family, who have erected this 

monument to his memory." 



JOHN FLAXMAN. 

[Born 1755. Died 1S26.] 

" HT^HE uneventful lives of artists " is a common platitude, 
•*■ whereas the execution of grand works in painting and 
sculpture is among the greatest events in history, and the 
thinking world shows that it considers them to be so by its 
undying appreciation. Of all the eventful history of mediaeval 
Italy, its art events are beyond all compare the greatest; 
and now that all her stage properties and pageantry are rele- 
gated to oblivion, her poets and artists reign supreme. To 
common minds an event is only some occurrence which strikes 
them between the eyes of consciousness with mischievous vio- 
lence. Such passively witness the virtue of the modest and 
unobtrusively progressive, but pass it by with very slight, if 
any, consideration. Thus it was with the genius of John Flax- 
man, whose life was in the better sense of eventfulness grandly 
eventful, but w T ho was allowed to enter into a European fame 
before Englishmen had at all adequately recognized what man- 
ner of man they had as a glorious possession. 

In forming an estimate of Flaxman's genius, we must not 
lose sight of the nature of his constitution ; his delicate frame 



166 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

emancipated his intellect, and left it supreme. His works, there- 
fore, although they manifest to the full a spiritual and conccp- 
tive excellence, often lack, especially the larger, some degree 
of physical completeness. This is a defect ; for perfect art, as 
the perfect manhood, consists in the combination of the two. 
Art to be complete must be perfect in both form and spirit. 
It is useless to urge that the intellectual conception is, in all 
the arts, the " better part;" for should a beautiful thought be 
imperfectly embodied, it is sent forth halt and limping to the 
world, and fully justifies the reproaches of criticism. To note 
a fine thought would be sufficient if the different arts did not 
demand special forms of expression, and perfection in those 
forms. But such a spirit as that of Flaxman descending upon 
an art which had been, till his coming, of the earth earthy, 
breathed into it at last the breath of life, and for this benefac- 
tion we must be devoutly thankful. 

John Flaxman was born in York, July 6, 1755. He did not, 
as many celebrated artists have done, work his way from 
some uncongenial sphere to art, but was early and quietly in- 
ducted into his profession, and must have very early become 
acquainted with the technique of sculpture through his father, 
who was employed for many years by the sculptors Roubillac 
and Scheemakers as a moulder, and who himself kept a shop 
for the sale of plaster figures from the antique. This shop was 
the young Flaxman's first art-school, for the delicate boy very 
early took to the pencil and to kindred studies. As he ad- 
vanced in years, and improved in health and strength, he seems 
to have resolved to become a sculptor, and in due course 
became a student of the Royal Academy. One of the earliest 
to recognize the boy's talents was the Rev. Mr. Mathew, to 
whose wife, a gifted and agreeable woman, he was soon after 
introduced. He was some eleven years old when he first saw 
this fascinating lady at her house in Rathbonc Place, where 
thenceforth he frequently repaired to hear her read Homer and 
Virgil, and discourse upon sculpture and verse. Here he was 
encouraged to study the classics. However, there is no evi- 
dence that he ever attained to any great proficiency in these 



JOHN FLAXMAN. 167 

studies. His education was of a very desultory kind; he 
attended no college, and distinguished himself in no eminent 
seminary; he gathered his knowledge from many sources, and 
mastered what he wanted by some of those ready methods 
which form one of the strongest proofs of genius. It is said 
that while Mrs. Mathew read Homer he sat beside her making 
sketches of the subjects of such passages as caught his fancy. 
These juvenile productions are still preserved. The taste dis- 
played in them induced Mr. Crutchley, of Sunning Hill Park, 
to commission him for a set of six drawings. The praise be- 
stowed on those early and imperfect works was grateful to the 
young artist. 

In his fifteenth year Flaxman became a student of the Royal 
Academy. In 1770 he exhibited a figure of Neptune in wax, 
and in 1827 the statue of John Kemble in marble. These were 
his first and latest works, and between them lies a period of 
fifty-seven years, intensely devoted to the pursuit of sculpture. 
He was soon known at the Academy as an assiduous and 
enthusiastic student. His small slim form, his grave and 
thoughtful looks, his unwearied application and undoubted 
capacity, won upon the hearts of all who watched him, and 
he began to be spoken of as one from whom much was to be 
expected. Among the students his companions were Blake 
and Stothard. During his teens he made some attempts with 
oil colors, and it is said with such success that one of these 
was afterwards sold as the work of an old master. 

After gaining the silver medal he entered the contest for the 
gold with one Engleheart, and lost. The general opinion was 
in favor of Flaxman's work, but the Royal Academy approved 
and rewarded his rival's. Flaxman, although somewhat morti- 
fied, redoubled his exertions. But he had now to win his bread, 
and to turn somewhat aside from the paths that he most loved. 
It is as well, perhaps, that men of imaginative genius should 
serve an apprenticeship in the rough workshop of the world. 
During this period he designed and modelled for the Wedg- 
woods. This employment was so far profitable that it main- 
tained him ; but then he was a frugal person. From boyhood 



168 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

to old age he lived the same quiet, simple, secluded sort of life, 
working by day and sketching from the Bible, the " Pilgrim's 
Progress," and the poets, and reading by night. 

During the ten years which preceded 1782, Flaxman exhib- 
ited some thirteen works at the Royal Academy, including por- 
traits in wax and terra-cotta, also a sketch for a monument to 
Chatterton. The subjects were " Pompey after his Defeat," 
" Agrippa after the Death of Germanicus," " Hercules with the 
Poisoned Shirt," " Acis and Galatea," the " Death of Caesar," 
etc. All were less than half life, and none of them were trans- 
ferred to the marble, which would have been the case if patron- 
age had smiled. In 1782 he quitted the paternal roof for a 
small house and studio in Wardour Street, there collected casts 
from the antique, etc., set his sketches in order, and took unto 
himself a wife, Ann Denman. She was amiable, had a taste for 
art and literature, and was an enthusiastic admirer of his genius. 
When the old bachelor, Sir Joshua Reynolds, heard of the mar- 
riage, he told Flaxman that he was ruined as an artist. Upon 
this he resolved to visit Rome, and to negative Sir Joshua's 
prediction. Between his marriage and departure for Italy he 
exhibited seven works, among these the monuments to Collins 
the poet and to Mrs. Morley, the one for Chichester and the 
other for Gloucester Cathedral. Having disposed of all his 
works, he set off for Rome in the spring of 1787. 

In Rome he was naturally struck with the beauty of the 
remains of ancient art as well as with the grandeur of the mod- 
ern. Flaxman, fully understanding the motive of mediaeval 
Italian art, conceived the design of devoting his powers to the 
Protestant cause, and the greater and most noble portion of his 
works bear the impress of this resolve. His life-work was sym- 
bolized in his St. Michael beating down Satan; very many of 
his works illustrate, in various forms, the triumph of Good over 
Evil. In such designs his genius was pre-eminent. 

It was in Rome that he executed his famous outline illustra- 
tions of Homer, .^Eschylus, and Dante, which have earned for 
him a European reputation. Patrons now began to make 
their appearance. For Mr. Thomas Hope he executed a group 



JOHN FLAXMAN. 1 69 

of Cephalus and Aurora; for the eccentric Frederick, fourth 
Earl of Bristol, a group of four figures of heroic size, represent- 
ing the fury of Athamas, for the ridiculously inadequate sum of 
£600. He next undertook the restoration of that splendid 
torso, the " Torso," which is generally supposed to be a frag- 
ment of a Hercules. The remains of ancient sculpture in Italy 
engaged not a little of Flaxman's attention. He made many 
drawings, and still more numerous memoranda, subsequently 
embodied in his lectures on sculpture. 

. After spending upwards of seven years in Rome, thus assidu- 
ously working as well as comparing the extravagance of Bernini 
with the temperance of the antique, and in disciplining his eye 
in a severe school, — having during this time been elected 
member of the Academies of Florence and Carrara, — Flaxman 
prepared to return home. 

On his arrival he found Bacon, Nollekens, and Banks fully 
employed. He took a house in Buckingham Street, Fitzroy 
Square, erected shops and studios, and made his reappearance 
in England known by his monument to the Earl of Mansfield, 
which had been commissioned while he was in Italy. * For this 
fine work, erected in Westminster Abbey, he received .£2,500. 
During the progress of this monument he wrote the poem and 
made the designs which he dedicated in a book to his wife. He 
was elected an Associate of the Royal Academy in 1797, and in 
his forty-fifth year full Academician. Then in succession came 
the monuments to Sir William Jones for Oxford ; his proposal 
for a statue of Britannia, two hundred feet in height, to be 
placed on Greenwich Hill ; the noble works, the monuments 
in memory of the family of Baring, embodying the words, "Thy 
will be done," "Thy kingdom come," " Deliver us from evil; " 
those to Mary Lushing, Mrs. Tighe, Edward Balme, and the 
Rev. Mr. Clowes, of St John's Church, Manchester. Flaxman 
executed also several historical monuments, but these are not 
his ablest works. They were embodiments of paragraphs from 
military gazettes, done in marble, in which British Lions, Vic- 
tory's, and Britannias, the usual properties, extensively figured. 
Much of his poetic invention forsook him when he approached 



I70 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

modern subjects. The statue of Howe, in St. Paul's, was so 
clumsy, that after its erection months were consumed in chisel- 
ling it down. He adopted a perilous course in working his 
marbles from half-sized models. His physique may have led 
him to this. Latterly, however, he became sensible of the dis- 
advantages of such a course, and modelled the group of the 
Archangel overcoming Satan of full size. Among his statues 
were those of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir John Moore, and Pitt. 
But space does not permit the enumeration of all his works, 
which may be divided into four kinds, — the religious, the 
poetic, the classic, and the historical. In each of these he has left 
specimens which give him high rank, but in all of them he has 
not attained the same degree of excellence. In the historical 
he was embarrassed with the unpoetic costume of those days of 
buttons and capes ; in the classic he was compelled to follow 
the antique ; but in the poetic and the religious he has been 
surpassed in purity and simplicity by no modern sculptor. His 
religious compositions consist of groups and figures embodying 
moral and spiritual passages from Scripture ; they are gener- 
ally of moderate dimensions, carved in moderate relief, sketches 
in plaster and in outline. Of these there cannot be less than a 
thousand. It was a wish that possessed him early in life to 
dedicate his genius to morality and devotion. That he did not 
accomplish all that he wished in this direction was the fault of 
the age, not his. We cannot, however, dismiss a partial enu- 
meration of his work without mentioning his famous bas-relief of 
Mercury and Pandora, and the alto-relief of the " Deliver us 
from Evil." The original models of many of his fine works, 
including the St. Michael, together with numerous drawings, 
are collected in the hall of University College. In 1S11 he 
delivered the first of his course of lectures on sculpture at the 
Royal Academy. 

Mrs. Flaxman died in 1820, and from this bereavement some- 
thing like a lethargy came over his spirit. He was now in his 
sixty-sixth year, and surrounded with the applause of the world. 
His studios were filled with commissions; among these was 
that of the Archangel Michael, already alluded to, and the 



JOHN FLAXMAN. 171 

famous Achilles' Shield, designed for Messrs. Rundell and 
Bridge, the eminent silversmiths. 

The exhibition of mind in works of art is, as we have ad- 
mitted, the "better part; " but it is only a part, — the grander 
and nobler part, but not the whole. Material blemishes may 
be regarded with leniency in works thus endowed, but for the 
absence of intellect there is no redemption. It was in that 
intellectual and " better part " that Flaxman was pre-eminent, 
and this pre-eminence gained for him the admiration of the 
civilized world, and the title of public benefactor. 

It was on the 2d December, 1826, that a stranger called 
upon him to present a copy of a work entitled " Al Ombra di 
Flaxman," which its author had no sooner published than he 
found to his consternation that the great artist was living, and 
had now sent through his envoy a copy and an apology. Flax- 
man smiled and accepted the volume with unaffected modesty. 
On that day the great sculptor was well and cheerful ; but the 
next Sunday he went to church, felt himself suddenly affected 
with cold, refused all medicine, and went to bed. An inflam- 
mation of the lungs was the result of the cold, and all attempts 
to arrest the deadly malady were in vain. On Thursday, the 
7th December, 1826, he died without a struggle, and on the 
15th of the same month he was buried with artistic honors in 
the churchyard of St. Giles in the Fields, — the Flaxman whose 
remains deserved a tomb in either Westminster or St. Paul's. 



II. 

DISCOVERY AND EXPLORATION. 




^ v it YXvj^^^^ft :; '-'- : " ;; ■•- ^^ 



CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS. 



CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS. 

[Born circa 1435. Died 1506.] 

TT has been said, not without considerable show of truth, that 
4- the man deserving most gratitude from the human race is 
he who shall have made two blades of grass grow where but 
one grew before. Of course, the adage seeks to inculcate the 
enormous benefit conferred upon his species by a judicious 
promoter of agricultural industry ; and seeing that the cereals, 
the suppliers of the " staff of life," are, after all, themselves 
but grasses, it may be allowed that the statement is not an 
overstrained one. Carry out the proposition to its logical se- 
quence; and if the man who increases the fertility of lands 
already known be worthy of praise, what may not be said of 
one who gives to his fellow-men new and luxuriant territories, 
where labor may put forth fresh energies in a new field, and the 
overstocked populations of older countries may find a profit- 
able sphere for the employment of those forces which at home 
would become useless, if not positively harmful, for want of a 
fitting scope? So far as the great mass of mankind is con- 
cerned, it may well be doubted whether any men have more 
greatly conduced to the temporal good of society at large than 
those great explorers who, by their discoveries in past years, 
have wellnigh doubled the area of the known world, and knit 
together lands already known to their predecessors, but sepa- 
rated by the difficulties of travel almost as widely as though 
they had not existed for one another. Such names arise to the 
mind as those of Sebastian Cabot ; Prince Henry the navigator, 
to whom the world first owed its knowledge of the West Afri- 
can coast; Nunez de Balboa, unhappy discoverer of the South 



176 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Sea ; Bartolomeo Diaz, who changed the terrible Cape of Storms 
into the Cape of Good Hope, and so opened up Oriental com- 
merce ; but first and readiest of all comes that of the great 
Genoese, Christopher Columbus, to whose undaunted resolve 
the world owes the final possession, in any practical sense, of the 
great continent of North America, now one of the main grana- 
ries of the earth, so that, after all, the praise awarded to him 
may in a sense be referred to the saying with a mention of 
which we started. 

Christopher Columbus, or Colon, — the more generally ac- 
cepted name being only a Latinized form of his patronymic, 
after a common fashion of that day, — was of humble, if not of 
low origin, and was born in or about the year 1435. Like 
other great men, divers towns have contended for the honor of 
having given him birth, among which, perhaps, the best claim 
was put forward by Cuccaro in Montferrat; it is, however, now 
pretty firmly established that Genoa has the true right. Simi- 
larly, the occupation of his father has been under dispute ; 
whether he was a weaver, as some say, or only a bargeman, as 
others think, it is certain that he contrived to give the boy what 
was, for his station, an unusually liberal education, including 
Latin, geometry, and astronomy. His seafaring life, which 
began about his fourteenth year, was at first confined to coast- 
ing trips in the Mediterranean ; but as his age increased his 
voyages extended to the North Seas, where the Icelandic trade 
was then in a flourishing condition. To this succeeded a more 
adventurous kind of service under a noted corsair of his own 
family, who ravaged the neighboring seas, making impartial war 
alike upon Venetians and Mahometans. This was brought to a 
summary close by the destruction of his ship, which caught fire 
in an engagement; and the young Columbus saved his own life 
by swimming. 

We next find him settled in Lisbon, where his brother Bar- 
tholomew was already living as a maker of charts ; and shortly 
after he was married to the daughter of Palestrello, one of the 
sea-captains who had been employed by Prince Henry of Por- 
tugal, called " the navigator," to whom reference has already 



CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS. 177 

been made, and the results of whose discoveries now opened a 
field for the employment of Columbus's energies during several 
following years, when he was chiefly occupied in trading with 
Madeira, the Canaries, and adjacent settlements. Owing to his 
matrimonial connections, great opportunities had been afforded 
him of studying such maps and other records of African dis- 
covery as had been made in connection with former Portuguese 
exploration ; and the result, coupled with his own observations 
during his trading voyages, was a settled conviction, not only 
of the existence of hitherto unknown lands in the far West, but 
of the possibility of reaching the East Indies, then the great 
end of Portuguese commerce, by other than the circuitous 
route round the Cape of Good Hope. Having formulated his 
ideas, the next step was to find a power able and willing to. 
assist him in carrying them out. The Republic of Genoa, to 
whom, actuated by patriotic motives, he first proposed the 
scheme, declined it, influenced both by parsimony and a lack 
of enterprise. His next application was made to the then 
reigning King of Portugal, Don John II., who received him gra- 
ciously, and referred the plan to a committee. The individuals 
of whom this consisted, actuated by base motives, contrived 
surreptitiously to fit out a small expedition, which secretly 
started, furnished with copies of Columbus's own charts, upon 
the course proposed by the navigator himself, with the in- 
tention of forestalling him. The attempt, however, proved 
abortive, and the vessel returned to Lisbon. So incensed was 
the great navigator, on hearing of this treachery, that he at once 
transferred his offers to the Court of Spain, whither he pro- 
ceeded, despatching his brother at the same time to England to 
make overtures to Henry VII. similar to those which he him- 
self was making to Ferdinand and Isabella. The latter were 
for some time held in abeyance, and ultimately rejected, owing 
chiefly to the engrossing nature of public affairs, Spain being 
embroiled in the war with the Moors; consequently Columbus 
prepared to start for England, where Bartholomew, after a 
lengthened captivity among pirates, had at last received favor- 
able entertainment. But a new mediator interposed in the 

12 



178 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

person of a Franciscan dignitary, Juan Perez de Marchena, who, 

taking up the cause from feelings of friendship no less than 
from national pride, worked so hard for the advancement of the 
scheme that Queen Isabella herself undertook its advocacy. 
Partly owing to the over-caution of Ferdinand and partly to the 
parsimony of his advisers, rejection once more ensued, and the 
project of application to England was resumed. At this critical 
juncture the fall of Granada put an end to Spanish embarrass- 
ments, and, some wealthy patrons of Columbus having at the 
same time come forward in his behalf, a treaty was finally 
signed in April, 1492. By this he was appointed High-Admiral 
of Spain in all seas he might discover, as well as Viceroy in all 
new islands or continents. A tenth part of all accruing profits 
was settled upon him and his heirs in perpetuity, and, in con- 
sideration of the advance of one eighth of the necessary ex- 
penses of the expedition, he was also to receive an equitable 
share in all commercial advantages to be gained. 

On the 3d of August, 1492, Columbus at length set sail from 
the port of Palos, in Andalusia; the tiny fleet which was to 
accomplish so great a revolution in the world's history consist- 
ing of no more than three caravels, manned by one hundred and 
twenty men. After a run to the Canaries, where a delay was 
made for the purpose of refitting, he once more started, steering 
due west, on the 6th of September. Scarcely had they lost sight 
of land when the crew became uneasy, both at the novel variation 
of the compass and at the unaccustomed aspect of the unknown 
sea into which, driven by trade-winds, they were careering. 
For three weeks the spirit and indomitable cheerfulness of their 
commander kept them under partial control ; but at the end of 
that time there broke out an open mutiny, which it required 
all the diplomacy of Columbus to quiet for a time; indeed, 
threats were made against his life should he persist in the 
voyage. Shortly after this, insurrection made new head, and 
became so formidable that the commander was forced in self- 
defence to promise a return home should land not be dis- 
covered within three days' time. It was on the night of 
October 1 1 that Columbus, gazing anxiously towards the 



CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS. 179 

west, perceived a moving light, and almost immediately a cry of 
" Land ! " was raised. A complete revulsion of feeling followed 
on the part of the crew, and their commander was now hailed 
as little short of a divine leader. This first-discovered land 
proved to be an island, one of the present Bahama group. It 
was taken formal possession of for the crown of Castile and 
Leon, under the name of San Salvador. Among other dis- 
coveries made during this first voyage were the large islands of 
Cuba and Hispaniola, on the latter of which — now known as 
San Domingo — Columbus established a garrison, and, taking 
with him a few of the natives, together with samples of the 
indigenous produce, started for Spain. On the way the little 
fleet, already weakened by the loss of one vessel, was nearly 
cast away in a tempest, but finally sought shelter at the Azores, 
and, after touching at Lisbon, reached the port of departure 
exactly seven months and eleven days from the time when it 
had set out. The rejoicings in Spain, as may be imagined, were 
great. At a court held at Barcelona all the stipulations origi- 
nally made by Columbus were ratified, his family was ennobled, 
and he himself was appointed to the conduct of a new expedi- 
tion on a vastly larger scale. This, which left Cadiz on the 
25th of September, 1493, comprised seventeen vessels, on 
board of which were fifteen hundred souls, numbering among 
them certain men of family, who proposed to push their fortunes 
in the hew country. A more southerly course than on the for- 
mer occasion led to the discovery of the Leeward Islands, then 
inhabited by the fierce race of the Caribs ; but on reaching 
Hispaniola it was found that the natives, irritated by the mis- 
conduct of the Spanish garrison, had risen and massacred 
them. Columbus declined to undertake retaliatory measures, 
but established a stronger settlement, to which he gave the 
name of Isabella, in honor of his patroness; and, having, 
reduced matters to greater order, once more departed, leaving 
his brother Diego as governor of the island. The discovery 
of Jamaica followed, and on his return the high-admiral met 
with his brother Bartholomew, who arrived with reinforcements 
and supplies from Spain. The Indian war which succeeded 



I So OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

resulted in an almost total subjugation of the native tribes, 
many of whom were reduced to servitude, while from all 
heavy tribute was exacted. During this period the enemies of 
Columbus had not been idle, and the accusations against him 
had become so serious that he resolved to plead his cause in 
person. Therefore, leaving Bartholomew as his adelantado, 
or lieutenant-governor, he set out for Spain, where he arrived, 
after severe hardships, in 1496. After many delays he con- 
trived to reassert his influence with the sovereign, his native 
prudence and calmness being greatly aided by his presents of 
gold and other treasure ; so that he once more took his depart- 
ure in high favor, in May, 1498, with a squadron of six ships. 
This third journey, however important in its results, was less 
satisfactory at the time. Trinidad was discovered, as well as 
some portions of the South American coast; but mutiny and 
discontent at San Domingo occasioned the admiral fresh anxie- 
ties, and his life was once more imbittered by the intrigues of 
his enemies, who at length contrived to influence even Isabella 
against her former favorite. First of all, his assured rights 
were interfered with by a new grant of exploration to his 
rivals, Alfonso d'Ojeda and Amerigo Vespucci. This was fol- 
lowed by a revocation of his commission as viceroy. Fran- 
cesco de Bovadilla, who was sent out in his room, had the 
arrogance to send both Columbus and his brothers home in 
irons. But the act proved his own ruin. He was disgraced, 
while his victims were liberated and rewarded. Still the 
former honors were not restored, which so worked on the feel- 
ings of Columbus that he ever after preserved his fetters as a 
memento of injustice. It seemed as though his star was on 
the wane. His last voyage began in May, 1502; and the first 
incident was a terrible hurricane, occurring soon after his ar- 
rival at San Domingo, in which a treasure fleet starting for 
home, and the departure of which he had vainly attempted to 
delay, was almost entirely lost. True, his own fortune was 
saved, while Bovadilla and other of his bitterest enemies per- 
ished ; but even this event was made the cause of charges of 
sorcery against him. Then came his disappointment in not 



CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS. 181 

finding the strait which he had hoped existed near Panama, 
and shipwreck on the island of Jamaica, whence he was only 
rescued, after a period of the greatest misery, by a fleet from 
Hispaniola. At length, reaching Spain with one solitary vessel, 
he found, on landing at San Lucar in December, 1504, that Queen 
Isabella was dead ; and from her surviving consort, Ferdinand, 
he could obtain no redress, and had even to undergo the insult 
of being offered a pension in exchange for his former dignities. 

So, broken down with disappointment and illness, Columbus 
breathed his last at Valladolid, on May 20, 1506, his death 
being distinguished by the same piety and calm faith which 
had marked his life. King Ferdinand, actuated possibly by 
remorse, honored his body with solemn obsequies, and con- 
firmed, though tardily, the rights of his family. His remains, 
originally deposited at San Domingo, were transported in the 
year 1795 to the cathedral of Havana, in the island of Cuba, 
where they now repose. 

" America," says M. Henri Martin, " ought to bear no other 
name than that of Columbus. Posterity has been equally 
unjust towards Columbus with the crown of Spain : the latter 
refused him the just recompense of his labors ; the former has 
denied him the honor of naming the world that he found. 
The Florentine, Amerigo Vespucci, has robbed the great 
Genoese of his glory by the most gigantic fraud that history 
records. Amerigo having made, in 1499, a voyage to the 
coast of the new continent, seen the previous year by Colum- 
bus, pretended to have anticipated Columbus by a year, whom 
he had in fact only followed. His letters, addressed to such 
illustrious personages as Lorenzo di Medici and the Due de 
Lorraine, had a vast publicity ; that to the Duke was printed at 
St. Die in 1507, and the Lorraine editor thereupon proposed to 
give the name ' America ' to the fourth part of the globe, 
which he believed Vespucci had discovered. This proposal, 
made by an unknown person in an obscure corner of Lor- 
raine, has been universally adopted, to the end that nothing 
should be wanting that might make the unhappy destiny of 
Columbus complete." 



.82 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



WALTER RALEIGH. 

[Born 1552. Beheaded Oct. 29, 1618.] 

T T I STORY, clothed as with cloth of gold in the "spacious 
-*- ■*■ times of great Elizabeth," turns ruefully to grope among 
the shameful chronicles that make up the reign of her successor. 
Few meaner figures have disgraced the throne of England than 
that crowned buffoon. Even James I., however, has his uses. 
The weakness and folly of the effeminate pedant serve to bring 
into bolder relief the heroic qualities of the manlike queen. As 
we read of fleets and armies disgraced abroad and despised at 
home, we turn with a prouder attachment to the days when the 
lion-voice of Elizabeth defied the whole might of Catholic Eu- 
rope ; when English soldiers triumphed in the Netherlands and 
English sailors humbled the pride of Spain on every sea; when 
Drake with a few small vessels circumnavigated the world, and 
Raleigh sailed boldly forth to discover unknown lands. The 
last great name is imperishably associated with the glory of 
Elizabeth and the shame of the mock Solomon who succeeded 
her. Ever puzzled how to deal with heroes, James could make 
no better use of the discoverer of Virginia than to murder him. 

Towards the end of 1616 Walter Raleigh had been for twelve 
years a prisoner in the Tower. An English Damocles, his 
living death had compelled him to behold the axe of the exe- 
cutioner continually suspended above him by that frail thread, a 
king's caprice. One ray of sunshine, in the shape of his de- 
voted wife, alone lightened his captivity and brightened his lot. 
A mournful household must it have been at best. Great 
was her love who could endure to look, morning after morn- 
ing, into the eyes of her husband, and dread lest before 
another sun rose the blow of the headsman should have sealed 
them forever to this world, and her affection there. At the 




WALTER RALEIGH. 



WALTER RALEIGH. 1 83 

date, however, when our fancy transports itself to Raleigh's 
prison, the expectation of deliverance had come, like a guest 
from heaven, to the hearts of its two inhabitants. Money, 
poured forth like water, had purchased the intercession of the 
King's new favorite, the contemptible Villiers, and a pardon 
was already promised. His thirst for adventure reawakened, 
the veteran explorer hoped in a few months to set sail with a 
squadron for Guiana, in search of the gold-mines which he had 
persuaded himself and the court existed there. Just while he is 
most occupied with the project, a new prisoner enters the 
Tower ; and Raleigh, looking one day from his grated window, 
sees led into the gloomy fortress the ever- infamous Carr, Earl 
of Somerset, now under sentence of death for the poisoning of 
Sir Thomas Overbury. Sir Walter turned to those who stood 
gazing with him on the scene, and expressed the sentiments it 
inspired in him. " The whole history of the world hath not the 
like precedent," said he, " but in the case of Haman and Mor- 
decai. A king's prisoner to purchase freedom, and his bosom 
favorite to have the halter ! " Some parrot of the Tower, in the 
shape of an obsequious courtier, hastened with the words to the 
King's ear. James listened, and smiled maliciously. " Raleigh 
may die in that deceit," said he. Before two years were over 
Carr, a wretch many crimes worse than Haman, had escaped, 
by favor of the King, the gibbet he richly deserved, and Raleigh, 
the English Mordecai, had been foully put to death. 

Britannia may well turn with shame and loathing from the 
record of this great man's fate. One of the most gallant spirits 
of his age, he had a patriotism that was as sagacious as ardent. 
Chiefly to Raleigh do we owe it that the Spanish Armada was 
met while still at sea. He urged that ships could be moved 
from point to point more swiftly than soldiers. The whole 
land-forces of England would not, if assembled for the defence 
of her coasts, prevent a daring and skilful invader from landing 
in whatever quarter of the realm he pleased to select. The 
best defences of the island were its fleets. With the Channel 
for an arena and its havens to cover them, English seamen might 
demolish piecemeal the mightiest armament that even Spain 



184 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

could place upon the ocean. The wise counsels of the Devon- 
shire hero prevailed. A goodly array of vessels was provided. 
The elements fought on the side of English valor ; and a few 
months later there remained nothing of the Armada so haughtily 
misnamed Invincible, save the triumphant deliverance of the 
realm it had menaced, and the deep disgrace that blackened the 
renown of Spain. In the year 1588 was laid the foundation of 
England's naval supremacy ; and Walter Raleigh was among the 
greatest of the laborers who gave their souls to the work. He 
looks out on us from the past, an early example of the spirit of 
conquest that flamed forth in its crowning splendor when, two 
centuries later, the harbors of France and Spain could hardly 
contain the fleets that huddled there in inglorious safety, and 
the name of Nelspn had replaced that of Neptune as ruler of 
the deep. 

The incidents of Raleigh's life glide before us, changeful and 
vivid. While still a youth, he served his apprenticeship to 
arms in the Huguenot wars of France, and was saved, history 
knows not how, from the massacre of St. Bartholomew. Deeds 
done in Ireland and the Low Countries, and a voyage in the 
company of his relative, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, acquired for 
him a celebrity that landed him in due time at court. The 
cloak said to have served as his introduction to Queen Eliza- 
beth has been rendered, by historians and novelists, famous as 
any garment tailor ever fashioned. Whether the story of his 
flinging it as a foot-cloth on the puddle that her Majesty hesi- 
tated to pass be false or true, it is certain that Raleigh's gallant 
bearing and thousand graces of mind and person speedily won 
him favor. Such a spirit, however, could not abandon itself 
wholly to the butterfly existence of the courtier. The prime of 
his life was as useful as splendid. To-day deep in chemical 
experiments or Rabbinical literature, the morrow perhaps saw 
him weighing anchor for that New World by which he was fas- 
cinated as by a magician's spell. Discoverer of Virginia, and 
planter of our first American colony, he labored with sagacious 
earnestness to render his country the rival of Spain in searching 
for and civilizing unknown lands. Some street of Richmond, 



1 




zsnqtitK.f.jUCL 



CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 



CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 1 85 

Melbourne, or Sydney would be no inappropriate site for a 
statue of Sir Walter Raleigh. 

Elizabeth dead, the golden fortunes of the great admiral 
turned to dross. Wealth, lands, the jewels that made each 
dress he wore worth a fortune, the places and dignities that a 
word from him disposed of, were exchanged for a false charge 
of treason and a narrow cell in the Tower. After twelve years 
passed under sentence of death came the unsuccessful voyage 
to Guiana. On Raleigh's return the old condemnation was 
revived, and, a scaffold being prepared in Palace Yard at West- 
minster, two blows from the executioner's axe ended, on Octo- 
ber 29, 161 8, the sorrows of this gallant spirit. No man ever 
died with more heroic dignity. On the scaffold he asked for 
the weapon that was to sever the thread of his life, and exam- 
ined its edge. " This is a sharp medicine," said he composedly, 
" but it is a cure for all diseases." In his Bible he had left 
some lines, composed the night before his execution. They 
constitute the solemn farewell of a hero : — 

" Even such is Time, that takes on trust 
Our youth, our joys, our all we have ; 
And pays us but with age and dust, 
Who, in the dark and silent grave, 
When we have wandered all our ways, 
Shuts up the story of our days ; 
But from this earth, this grave, this dust, 
The Lord shall raise me up, I trust." 



CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 

[Born Oct. 27, 1728. Killed Fee. 14, 1779.] 

'THHE isles of Greece have been sung in burning words, but 

■*■ the poet is yet to arise who shall do justice to the isles of 

the Pacific. These long-hidden paradises, the creation of coral 

worms and the submarine infernos we name volcanoes, suggest 



1 86 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

to Europeans who visit them thoughts of Eden in the days 
that followed the Fall. Visions of tree and flower, resembling 
more nearly than any other of the scenes that make earth 
beautiful, the garden Adam sighed to leave, rise in tropical 
luxuriance before eyes that day after day have been wearied by 
the sight of monotonous leagues of water; and delighted voy- 
agers, as they behold for the first time Fiji or Otaheite, lying 
lovely in the arms of Ocean, are prone to cry confidently that 
man must needs be innocent where all that surrounds him is so 
fair. A few days' experience of the supposed heaven on earth 
and the illusion is dispelled. The native races rank low even in 
the scale of heathenism. Drunkenness and those other curses 
that Europeans take with them to the savage tribes they visit are 
now rapidly sweeping them away. When a future Milton shall 
describe that Otaheitan Eden, to regain which the crew of the 
" Bounty " rose in mutiny, he must needs select Captain Cook 
or some other white man for his hero. In the Otaheitan himself 
the epic poet would find nothing remarkable except his vices. 

James Cook, cabin-boy and post-captain, who, born in a clay- 
built hovel, of parents that never called a foot of the land they 
tilled their own, added by right of discovery so many square 
leagues of territory to the British Empire, would be no mean 
subject to exercise the pen of a modern Virgil. The hero who 
fled from burning Troy may have rivalled the hero who fell at 
Owhyhee in hair-breadth escapes ; but so far as extent of 
travel and variety of adventure are concerned Cook asserts an 
immeasurable superiority. Only in the cradle and the grave 
did he ever know much of rest; and even his childhood gave 
promise of the activity by which his maturer years were 
marked. The spectacled dame who, with her birch beside her, 
taught him the alphabet and little beyond, the hard-working 
father and mother who placed him in charge of that dame, and 
a few years later apprenticed him to a haberdasher as the best 
means by which they could render his social condition a trifle 
superior to their own, found him, so far as we can learn, a 
troublesome lad to deal with. When little James, weary of the 
counter and fretted into restlessness by the neighborhood of 



CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 1 87 

the ever-restless ocean, insisted on being released from the 
haberdashery business and reapprenticed to two Quaker broth- 
ers, the owners of a few small collier vessels, Mrs. Cook, it is 
probable, wept as mothers who fear a watery grave for their 
darlings are accustomed to weep. Those good peasant par- 
ents, poor, ignorant, and loving, who had fondly and proudly 
hoped that their boy would one day sell stockings and yards 
of tape behind a counter of his own, are henceforth unheard 
of in connection with their famous son. Did they die while 
the ungracious slowness with which the world recognizes merit 
was still deferring the hopes and making sick the heart of the 
future discoverer? Did they live to see him a post-captain 
and Fellow of the Royal Society, and the nine days' idol of the 
London world? Biography, so far as the writer has examined 
it, is silent on the subject. 

At twenty-seven Cook had so far risen in the world as to be 
mate of a collier brig, and saw small prospect of rising higher. 
While the vessel lay in the Thames there broke out that war 
with France which ended in the conquest of Canada. Cook, 
ill pleased with his condition, and conscious that it would be 
difficult to escape the clutches of the press-gang, avoided a 
forced enlistment by volunteering. By ability, energy, and 
sobriety he attracted the notice of Captain, afterwards Admiral 
Palliser, who thought him fitted for better things than a life 
before the mast. A master's warrant was procured, and in the 
Canadian expedition that bore with it the fortunes of Quebec 
and General Wolfe the eminent skill and daring of the pro- 
moted seaman were brought thoroughly to light. 

Ten years later the " Endeavor," a small vessel belonging to 
the English navy, carried to the South Seas a party of astrono- 
mers and naturalists. Cook, whose talents had at length won 
some slender recognition, was charged with the conduct of the 
expedition and the care of the men of science. His difficul- 
ties were as great as ever seaman triumphed over. The un- 
known portions of the Pacific were the deserts in which the 
great navigator wandered. At sea his pathway was strewed 
with hidden rocks ; if he landed, tribes of hostile savages 



l88 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

instantly beset him. At one time disturbing New Zealanders 
in their cannibal repast, at another witnessing the hills of Aus- 
tralia enveloped in a conflagration his landing had induced the 
natives to kindle, Cook finally turned the prow of his vessel 
homewards, and fled, veritably chased by Death. The scurvy 
had broken out on board; and in a few weeks the " Endeavor" 
was converted into a floating hospital, from which corpses were 
almost daily cast into the waves. His second voyage saw the 
now famous discoverer profit by the experience so terribly 
gained. To preserve the health of his crew was the task he 
felt incumbent upon him; and by outstripping all the other 
seamen of his time in sanitary science he succeeded in his 
desire. Cook was now in Antarctic waters. English geogra- 
phers of a century back fancied that a vast continent lay some- 
where in the neighborhood of the South Pole, — a continent 
that it would be to the glory of their nation to discover. 
Charged with this impossible mission, James Cook struggled 
gallantly south. Through storm and darkness, ice islands ever 
around them, the furious wind from time to time driving one 
frozen monster against another, and causing them to split in 
pieces with the noise as of thunder, he and his one colleague 
forced forward their vessels, the " Resolution" and " Adventure." 
At length the "Adventure " lost her consort, and retreated north- 
wards. Cook, though more than once beaten back to more 
hospitable regions, would hear of no final retreat till his errand 
had been fulfilled ; and the " Resolution," faithful to her name, 
sought England only when the dream of a vast southern con- 
tinent had been utterly dispelled. Land, said Cook, might 
indeed lie locked in that Antarctic darkness, but it was land on 
which the foot of man would never tread. 

A third voyage was rendered mournfully memorable by the 
tragedy of his death. Returning from an attempt to pene- 
trate, by way of Behring Strait, the regions where, sixty years 
later, Sir John Franklin and his companions perished, Cook 
discovered, on November 30, 1778, the fatal island of Owhyhee. 
By February of the following year the dissimulation of the 
natives had so effectually won upon him that he trusted himself 




SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. 



SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. 189 

almost defenceless in their hands. His slaughter speedily fol- 
lowed. Assailed on the beach by a crowd of treacherous 
savages, he was beaten down when but a few paces from his 
boat, and not even his remains ever reached England. If he 
has not a grave in his native land, his memory still lives there. 
To few better beacons can English seamen look than to a man 
whose career was ever upward and onward, and whose devotion 
to duty ended only with his life. 



SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. 

[Born 17S6. Died 1847.] 

"P^ROM time to time the doors of Arctic prison-houses unlock 
J- before the influences of an unusually genial season, and 
there drift down into warmer latitudes grim relics of tragedies 
wrought amidst the ice. Sometimes the battered fragments of 
a wreck that ice-floes have caught and crushed pass from these 
dismal regions into the open sea. Sometimes an entire vessel 
is loosed from its frozen anchorage, and returns towards the 
land it quitted long years before, bearing with it, perhaps, a 
load of corpses, to testify that its crew have voyaged onwards 
into eternity. No mildness of the Arctic summer dawned to 
release the imprisoned ships that carried to their doom the 
crews of Franklin and Crozier. The ice, having closed upon 
them, held them fast; and the unhappy voyagers, conscious of 
their peril, but undaunted by it, could but turn away into the 
wilderness, to mark each stage of their journey with a grave, 
and to find in those dim and untrodden wastes where the 
darkness of Arctic winter is broken only by the weird glitter of 
the northern lights, that bourn whence no traveller returns. 
Only the mournful letters of the dead, and yet more mournful 
relics of their sufferings and fate, have from time to time been 
discovered and brought back, in order to keep forever fresh in the 



190 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

hearts of all Christian people a sorrowful remembrance of 
heroes who died we know not so much as how or where. 

As brave a heart as ever triumphed over danger beat in the 
breast of Franklin. When McClure, after wintering for three 
years among the ice, discovering a Northwest Passage, and 
pushing forward his ship into regions that no vessel had before 
entered, was forced to return, leaving the problem of the fate of 
Franklin still unsolved, Sir Edward Parry, himself among the 
most famous and persevering of Arctic navigators, thus spoke 
of his lost rival in Polar research : " Those who knew Franklin 
knew this, that he would push on year after year so long as his 
provisions lasted. Nothing could stop him. He was not the 
man to look back if he believed the thing was still possible. 
He may have got beyond the reach of our searching-parties." 
The last words were prophetic, though not in the sense that 
Parry spoke them. Franklin had indeed got far beyond the 
reach of any searching-party his country could send forth, and 
the mortal remains of a hero whose tomb would have honored 
Westminster had long years before been laid by the companions 
of his sufferings in an icy grave. 

He was among the most ardent of the seamen who have 
cherished the ambition of discovering the Northwest Passage, 
or battling onwards to the Pole, and who, like Sir Martin Fro- 
bisher, have considered such achievements the only things on 
earth " left yet undone whereby a notable mind might be made 
famous and fortunate." Twice by land and as many times by 
sea did he attempt the enterprise in pursuit of which he at last 
laid down his life. From his- first voyage he and his colleague, 
Captain Buchan, returned with vessels that the ice had crushed 
till it seemed a miracle that they could float. The second of 
the entrances of Franklin into Arctic solitudes was effected by 
land. The sufferings of the travellers were intense. After feed- 
ing on singed hides and lichens gathered from the rocks, they 
were reduced at length to collect bones that the wolves had 
picked clean and make the wretched refuse into soup. A mor- 
sel of flesh, however putrid, was esteemed a luxury; and when 
by rare good fortune a bird had been shot, the starving wander- 



SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. 191 

ers were but too happy to eat it raw. Leaving several of the 
party in the wilderness, slain by starvation and frost, the feeble 
skeletons that were left succeeded finally in reaching an en- 
campment of friendly Indians, and for the first time in months 
were supplied with something deserving the name of food. 
Even their shoes and the covers of their guns had been de- 
voured in their extreme want. 

The living death he had endured daunted Franklin not a whit. 
In 1825, he and the remnant of his fellow-sufferers, with one or 
two new companions in danger, once more struck northward 
from the Hudson's Bay Territory towards the Polar Sea. When 
the expedition left England the wife of Captain Franklin lay at 
the point of death. The magnets of both duty and inclination 
drew him northwards; affection conjured him to remain. Not 
only did she to whom the conflict in his mind was owing refrain 
from bidding him stay, but she entreated him, " as he valued 
her peace and his own glory," to quit England on the day 
appointed, nor to delay an instant on her account. She gave 
him, as her parting gift, a silk flag, saying that it was to be 
hoisted only -when he reached the Polar Sea. When it was 
reared on the shores of Garry Island, and the cold winds of the 
Arctic regions first shook it out from the staff, a deeper coldness 
had long since numbed the hands that fashioned it. 

Knighted in 1829 for his eminent services as an explorer, 
Franklin had married again the previous year, and was a sec- 
ond time happy in his wedded life. In May, 1845, he sailed 
from Sheerness on his last and fatal voyage. The expedition 
consisted of two ships, the " Erebus " and " Terror." Men and 
officers were in high spirits, regarding the success of the voy- 
age as all but certain, and their commander as the man of all 
men likeliest to achieve it. The vessels passed northward, 
were met by a whaler at the entrance to the Arctic seas, and 
then disappeared forever. When two years were gone by with- 
out any tidings of Sir John, the Government began to fit out 
expeditions in search of the lost adventurers. Some by way of 
the dangerous seas that lie between America and Greenland, 
some by way of Behring Strait, parties of explorers toiled for- 



192 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

ward in quest of their endangered countrymen. The " Erebus " 
and "Terror," however, seemed to have vanished utterly. When 
McClure, from whose bold dash into unexplored regions much 
had been expected, returned unsuccessful, hope began to die 
away. A year or two afterwards Dr. Rae brought back from 
his overland search news that made the fate of the missing 
Englishmen too plain. He had met Esquimaux in whose pos- 
session were relics of the expedition. From their narrative it 
appeared that the ships had been abandoned, that many of the 
party were dead, and that the survivors, reduced to the last hor- 
rible expedient by which hunger seeks to prolong life, had wan- 
dered on through the Arctic desert, perishing one by one. 

While upon this subject, it would be unjust not to mention 
the efforts made by noble men of other countries to rescue 
the intrepid explorer. They illustrate that wondrous touch of 
nature that makes the whole world kin. In 1849 Henry Grin- 
nell, a noble and philanthropic merchant of New York, fitted 
out at his own expense the two vessels, the " Advance " and the 
" Rescue," which under the command of Lieutenant De Haven, 
U. S. N., sailed in the following May for the Arctic Ocean. 
Upon the return of this expedition from a fifteen months' un- 
successful search, a second was immediately organized to con- 
tinue it; and Dr. E. K. Kane, who had accompanied De Haven 
as surgeon, was selected for the command. This expedition 
sailed in May, 1853. It also failed to recover any traces of the 
lost Sir John ; but the record of heroic endurances and of 
the sufferings that Kane's party were forced to undergo while 
imprisoned in the ice excited the world's admiration and sym- 
pathy, useless though the sacrifice of the lives of some and the 
health of others proved to be. 

The British Government had declined to fit out further expedi- 
tions. The noble devotion of Lady Franklin, however, was still 
unsatisfied. Through her means a small vessel, the " Fox," went 
forth in 1857 under the command of McClintock. The voyage 
was destined to a mournful success. On the northwest shore 
of King William Land were found the grave of Franklin, and 
records showing that after his death the officers and men who 



SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. 193 

yet remained had sought to gain the American continent by 
way of the Great Fish River. The only shore they were des- 
tined to reach was that which lies beyond the last river man can 
pass. 

Franklin, as the documentary relics of the expedition proved, 
lived long enough to discover that of which he went in search. 
He, first of all men, lighted on a Northwest Passage. It was 
too ice-choked to be available, — a barren discovery, of which 
commerce could make no use. Not so barren are the lessons 
of his life, that record of steady heroism, of privations unflinch- 
ingly endured, of devotion to duty, faithful even in prospect of 
an icy grave. 

The following anonymous poetical gem is deemed a fitting 
pendant to our sketch : — 

" ' Away ! away ! ' cried the stout Sir John, 
' While the blossoms are on the trees ; 
For the summer is short, and the time speeds on, 

As we sail for the Northern Seas. 
Ho, gallant Crozier, and brave Fitzjames ! 

We will startle the world, I trow, 
When we find a way through the Northern seas, 

That never was found till now ! 
For a good stout ship is the " Erebus," 

As ever unfurled a sail ; 
And the " Terror " will match with as brave a one 

As ever outrode a gale.' 



" So they bade farewell to their happy homes, 

To the hills and valleys green ; 
With three hearty cheers for their native isle, 

And three for the English Queen. 

'They sped them away, beyond cape and bay, 

Where the day and night are one ; 
Where the hissing light in the heavens grew bright, 

And flamed like a midnight sun. 
There was nought below, save the fields of snow 

That stretched to the icy Pole ; 
And the Esquimau, in his strange canoe, 

Was the only living soul. 
13 



194 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

" Along the coast, like a giant host, 

The glittering icebergs formed ; 
They met on the main, like a battle plain, 

And crashed with a fearful sound. 
The seal and the bear, with a curious stare, 

Looked down from their frozen heights ; 
And the stars in the skies, with their great wild eyes, 

Peered out from the Northern lights. 

" The gallant Crozier,»and the brave Fitzjames, 
And even the stout Sir John, 
Felt a doubt, like a chill, through their warm heart thrill, 
As they urged the good ship on. 

" They sped them away, beyond cape and bay, 

Where even the tear-drops freeze ; 
But no way was found, by strait or sound, 

To sail through the Northern seas. 
They sped them away, beyond cape and bay ; 

They sought, but they sought in vain ; 
For no way was found, through the ice around, 

To return to their /tomes again / 

" Then the wild waves rose, and the waters froze, 
Till they closed like a prison wall ; 
And the icebergs stood in the sullen flood 
Like their jailers, grim and tall. 

" O God ! O God ! it was hard to die 

In that prison house of ice ; 
For what was fame, or a mighty name, 

When life was the fearful price ! 
The gallant Crozier, and brave Fitzjames, 

And even the stout Sir John, 
Had a secret dread, and their hopes all fled, 

As the weeks and months passed on. 

"Then the Ice King came, with his eyes of flame, 

And gazed on the fated crew ; 
With chilling breath, as cold as death, 

He pierced their warm hearts through. 
A heavy sleep, that was dark and deep, 

Came over their weary eyes ; 
And they dreamed strange dreams, of the hills and streams, 

And the blue of their native skies. 




DANIEL BOONE. 



DANIEL BOONE. 195 

" The Christmas chimes of the good old times 

Were heard in each dying ear ; 
With the dancing feet, and the voices sweet, 

Of their wives and their children dear. 
But they faded away, away, away, 

Like the sound on some distant shore ; 
While deeper and deeper grew the sleep, 

Till they slept to wake no more. 

" Oh ! the sailor's wife and the sailor's child, 

They will weep and watch and pray ; 
And the Lady Jane, she will weep in vain, 

As the long years pass away. 
But the gallant Crozier, and brave Fitzjames, 

And the good Sir John have found 
An open way to a quiet bay, 

And a Port where we all are bound. 

" Let the wild waves roar on the frozen shore 
That circles the icy Pole ; 
For there is no sleep, no grave so deep, 
That can hold a human soul ! " 



DANIEL BOONE. 

[Born 1735. Died 1820.] 

HT^HIS greatest of American pioneers, who with his rifle, his 
-*- axe, and his native strength of character and purpose, 
reclaimed so vast a portion of the national domain to civiliza- 
tion, was a native of Pennsylvania. When he was only eighteen 
his parents removed into North Carolina, where young Boone 
readily fell in with the wild and free life, half savage, half civi- 
lized, of a hunter, explorer, and scout, — a character and a 
career peculiar to American civilization and distinguishing it 
by a unique type. 

All the country west of the Alleghanies was then an untamed 
wilderness, the French alone having a few scattered trading- 



196 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

posts along the course of the Ohio. Boone's thoughts, as 
well as his ambitions, were presently turned in this direction ; 
for already the impulse to separate himself from a crowding 
population was too strong to be resisted. He had married in 
North Carolina Rebecca Bryan, who proved the worthy consort 
of such a husband. In 1769 he with four companions set out 
upon a prospecting tour into the heart of this remote wilder- 
ness, whose great natural beauty and fertility he knew only 
through report. He was thirty-four when he shouldered his 
rifle for this long, difficult, and dangerous march. His party 
crossed the mountains, entered Kentucky at the southeast cor- 
ner, and reached Red River in June. Here from a rocky 
height they looked down upon an enchanting scene of far- 
stretching vale and noble stream, and here they resolved to 
pitch their first camp. The Indians having discovered the 
presence of the white men, Boone and one of his companions 
named Stuart were surprised while they were absent on a hunt- 
ing expedition, whereupon the others, breaking up their camp 
in haste, made their way back to Carolina. Boone and Stuart 
having fortunately eluded the vigilance of their captors, these 
two intrepid spirits, undismayed by the flight of their comrades, 
determined to hold their ground, notwithstanding all the dan- 
gers that surrounded them. It was now the depth of winter. 
They had invaded the hunting-grounds of the fierce tribes 
inhabiting the country north of the Ohio, from whom no quar- 
ter could be expected, and their ammunition began to fail. 
Stuart was soon killed and scalped by the Indians; but Boone 
being unexpectedly joined by his brother, who had followed 
him from Carolina, these two Crusoes passed the winter in the 
Kentucky wilderness unmolested. When spring came, Daniel's 
brother undertook alone the long and dangerous journey back 
to the white settlements, while the pioneer himself, a stranger 
to fear, awaited his brother's return with no other companions 
than the bears and panthers that prowled around his solitary 
cabin. At this time Boone possessed a will of iron. To 
hold what he had come so far to seek was with him a point of 
honor; yet such a resolve provokes a smile when we think of 



DANIEL BOONE. 197 

it. Its very dangers seem to have charmed this bold spirit. 
To him the woods were a far more congenial dwelling-place 
than the haunts of men, the chase and its dangers more allur- 
ing than all the pursuits of civilized life. To such a man the 
dark and savage country he was in was an Eden, and he had 
decided thenceforth to make it his home in spite of the impla- 
cable hostility of its savage owners. It was two years before 
Boone returned to his family, in order to carry out his cherished 
design of bringing them to the paradise he had found. In 
1773, being joined by several other families, he again set out for 
Kentucky; but after passing the mountains his party was at- 
tacked in a mountain defile, dispersed, and driven back by the 
Indians with the loss of six men. In the combat Boone's 
eldest son had fallen. But Boone was not the man to be 
daunted by reverses. From this time until 1775 he was ac- 
tively furthering plans for the settlement of Kentucky. At 
one time he was leading a party of surveyors as far as the 
falls of the Ohio (Louisville) ; at another time he was helping 
to negotiate a treaty with the powerful and warlike Cherokees, 
or again assisting to mark out a road from the Holston to the 
Kentucky River in order to facilitate the passage of emigrants. 
So determined were the Indians living north of the Ohio to 
resist this invasion of their hunting-grounds, that after a bloody 
combat with them, foreseeing that the settlers must fight for 
every inch of ground, Boone built a block-house into which he 
subsequently removed his family. This was the first white 
habitation in Kentucky, and Boone's wife and daughters were 
the first white women who had stood on the banks of the Ken- 
tucky River. This primitive block-house was erected on the 
present site of Boonesborough. Soon other forts — or stations, 
as they were called — were built at different points, convenient 
to each other, inaugurating a warfare of the most desperate 
and sanguinary nature with the savages, — a warfare which gave 
to the region its significant title of the " Dark and Bloody 
Ground." The settlers fought with determined obstinacy and 
valor. On both sides blood flowed like water. Repeated con- 
flicts at length taught these savages the superiority of the 



198 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

dreaded " Long-Knives." The record of these early days in 
the history of Kentucky is filled with deeds of daring, in which 
Boone always bore a conspicuous part. As was natural, the 
Indians put forth every effort to destroy so formidable an 
adversary ; but Boone's skill, courage, and good fortune, his 
knowledge of all the artifices of his enemies, always extricated 
him from perils that would have staggered any man but him- 
self. Unceasing vigilance was necessary to guard against sur- 
prise. Sometimes the Indians would assault all the garrisons 
simultaneously, and hold their defenders closely besieged for 
weeks together. Sometimes they would prowl unseen around 
the stations, watching their opportunity to take prisoners. 
During one of these affairs Boone's daughter was taken and 
carried off in sight of the garrison. Hastily collecting eighteen 
men, the father put himself at their head. In two days he 
overtook the marauders, suddenly fell upon them, put them to 
rout, and rescued his own child, together with other prisoners, 
who had also fallen into the hands of this particular band. On 
one occasion the wary backwoodsman was himself taken, while 
making salt at the Blue Licks for the use of the garrison. His 
captors first carried him in triumph to Detroit, and then back 
to their own chief town of Chillicothe, where they formally 
adopted him into the tribe as one of themselves. He was, 
nevertheless, closely watched. While submitting to this mark 
of distinction with apparent cheerfulness, Boone was constantly 
meditating an escape. He saved a little powder, and by split- 
ting in two the bullets that were given him to hunt with, but 
always counted when he returned from the chase, he secured 
the means of subsisting in the woods. And when, at length, 
he learned that the Indians were again getting ready to invade 
Kentucky, and to strike his own settlement at Boonesborough 
first of all, in more formidable force than they had ever before 
assembled, he fled. In four days he reached the fort, having 
travelled one hundred and sixty miles without taking rest or 
tasting food but once on the way. This remarkable exploit 
proved Boone to be possessed of more than an Indian's forti- 
tude and powers of endurance. He announced the;;- danger 



DANIEL BOONE. 199 

to the settlers. The garrison was hurriedly put in the best 
state of defence possible, every man, woman, and child doing 
his or her utmost to this end. Early in August, 1778, the 
enemy appeared before the station, with four hundred and fifty 
warriors led by French officers. Boone had only fifty fight- 
ing men. He was summoned to surrender. His answer was 
characteristic. He would fight as long as one man was alive to 
defend the fort. The enemy then opened fire. For twelve 
days the little garrison resisted every assault. The intrepid Ken- 
tucky women loaded the rifles, run bullets, and nursed the 
wounded. Boone's daughter was wounded by her father's side. 
At the end of this time the besiegers retreated, with the loss of 
thirty-seven killed to the garrison's two. In his account of the 
siege Boone says, with grim humor: "We picked up one hun- 
dred and twenty-five pounds of bullets, besides what stuck in the 
logs of our fort, which is certainly a great proof of the enemy's 
industry." Boone took part in the memorable battle with the 
savages at the Blue Licks, where the Kentuckians met with the 
most disastrous defeat that they had ever sustained, losing sixty 
of the very flower of their little army. Boone's second son was 
among the slain, and the pioneer himself narrowly escaped 
death. Nothing but the heroism of a few men like Boone 
saved Kentucky at this time. The pioneer afterwards accom- 
panied General Clarke in his expedition into the heart of the 
enemy's country, at which time the principal Indian strong- 
holds in Ohio, from which the savage hordes had periodically 
poured down into Kentucky, were laid waste. 

When at last peace with Great Britain had brought this 
sanguinary struggle to a close, Boone led an uneventful life 
until 1794, when, in consequence of some defect in his title, he 
was dispossessed of all the lands he had acquired in Kentucky, 
it might be said by right of conquest. Cut to the quick at 
receiving such treatment, Boone shouldered his rifle, and, turn- 
ing his back upon Kentucky, he, like another Belisarius, took 
his solitary way still farther toward the setting sun. He 
crossed the Ohio and the Mississippi, or " Great Water," into 
the unexplored region watered by the Missouri. Even here 



200 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Boone's fame had preceded him. The Spanish governor of 
the province allotted him ten thousand acres on the Missouri, 
and created him Syndic of the District of St. Charles. This 
grant he also lost, upon the acquisition of Louisiana by the 
United States, because of his neglect to comply with the forms 
requisite to complete his title. In his old age Boone was now 
compelled to appeal to the justice of the people of Kentucky, 
in order, as he most pathetically said, to secure a resting-place 
wherein to lay his bones ; for he could not now claim the own- 
ership of a single acre. The response to the venerable pioneer's 
appeal was, however, as prompt as it was generous. Boone's 
claims being brought before Congress by the State of Kentucky 
secured from that body the confirmation of a thousand arpents 
of land in the District of St. Charles, where Boone had settled 
when he first went to the Missouri Valley. 

An eventful life was nearing its close. In 1813 Mrs. Boone 
died. For more than half a century, throughout all the extraor- 
dinary vicissitudes of her husband's career, she had been the 
faithful and heroic wife and mother. Boone buried her on a 
bluff that overlooks the turbid Missouri. He himself died 
in 1820 in his eighty- sixth year. His memory is perpetuated 
in the names of towns and counties throughout the section in 
which his active life was passed. All honor, then, to the name 
of Daniel Boone ! Though not in any sense great, he was 
one of those men who seem appointed by nature to do a cer- 
tain work which is great in its results. As regards Kentucky 
he might have used the celebrated saying of Louis XIV., " I 
am the State," since the early history of Kentucky is his own 
biography. His log cabin was the foundation, not only of that 
Commonwealth, but, through the subjugation of the Indians, of 
the English settlements in Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Missouri 
also. Boone was a pioneer, not a statesman. His nature was 
too simple and upright for the struggles and rivalries of what we 
call " the world." Nevertheless, there is a moral grandeur in a 
character like this, whose stern virtues stand forth undimmed 
by the record of a single base action. To this character we 
continue to pay homage. 




DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 



DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 201 



DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 

[Born 1815. Died May i, 1873.] 

FUNERAL anthems sometimes bear an exulting resemblance 
to songs. of triumph; and never was the likeness more 
marked than when, on April 18, 1874, Westminster Abbey 
received the dust of Livingstone. The glory of the dead hero 
was pure. His scutcheon could be held up fearlessly in the 
face of the world ; the most malignant scrutiny would fail to 
discover a blot on that stainless surface. He had fought no 
battles but those of religion and civilization, had spilt no blood, 
and had dried tears in place of causing them. His was not one 
of the lurid spirits that, laden with inward fire, lower on us like 
human thunderclouds, and from time to time startle the world 
as with lightning flashes. The career of Livingstone shines 
with a steady, splendid light. " Jesus, my King, my life, my 
all," wrote the great explorer as, a few days after his parting 
with Stanley, he, on the last birthday save one that earth had 
to offer him, renewed the vow of his youth : " I again dedicate 
my whole self to Thee." Well did his life bear out the spirit of 
the pledge, — so well that, were there space for generous emo- 
tions in the grave, the most princely coffin resting beneath the 
pavement of the Abbey would have been proud to welcome 
that of the Scottish traveller to a place beside it. 

The dead might be silent, but not so the voice of England. 
She honored Livingstone gone from her, as she would have 
welcomed him in life. Never again would the strong Scottish 
face, resolution and sagacity written legibly in all its lines, show 
on any London street those features burnt brown by the sun of 
Africa. The keen eye had looked its last on negro hut or Scot- 
tish homestead. But the fame of the traveller remained, and 
the works of the missionary lived after him. He had cast the 
light of Christianity on the darkest places of the earth. 



202 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

The almost feminine tenderness inseparable from all courage 
that truly deserves the epithet " lion-like " was peculiarly marked 
in Livingstone. That tenderness never found vent in misplaced 
sentimentality or effusive pathos. The feeling was too strong 
for it to lead the hero whom it influenced into any weakness. 
David Livingstone, believing in hearty effort, disdained ineffec- 
tive words. His great heart might be set on fire by the wrongs 
of Africa ; but he was not one to wring his hands helplessly in 
prospect of those wrongs, or, seizing on pen and ink, to wail 
forth page after page of useless lamentation. It did not con- 
tent him to drop tears, on the fetters of the negro ; his desire 
was to break them. Noble actions, not splendid sentiments, 
were the contributions he made to progress. By tireless self- 
sacrifice, by a justice that mercy effectually tempered, by a 
patience whose very calmness bespoke its depth, and a perse- 
verance none the less strong that it was gentle, did the famous 
explorer prove how truly in his nature the lion had lain down 
with the lamb. " I like you," was Cazembe's greeting to the 
Doctor, when the savage potentate in question had scanned for 
a moment the features of the white visitor to his dominions. " I 
like you," few women and children can have failed to think that 
ever looked on the face of David Livingstone. 

How well we all seem to know him ! How beloved is his 
memory in his native Scotland, that country whose pride in her 
great' sons is surely equalled by no other nation on-earth ! A 
wanderer, both from disposition and circumstances, the Scot 
yet seems, when he sets out on his wanderings, to leave his heart 
in the land of his nativity. Is there in any autobiography ever 
written a passage more affecting than that which occurs in Liv- 
ingstone's diary of June 25, 1868? The explorer had not seen 
an English face for years. He was worn with illness and pri- 
vation, sick at heart from witnessing the sufferings of slaves, 
deprived of everything but his courage and his faith in God. 
All at once Death thrusts on him a token of his presence, and 
stirs up a thought that breaks like a sob from that noble heart. 
"We came/' he writes, " to a grave in the forest. It was a little 
rounded mound, as if the occupant sat in it in the usual native 



DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 203 

way. . . . This is the sort of grave I should prefer ; to lie in the 
still, still forest, and no hand ever disturb my bones. The 
graves at home always seemed to me miserable, especially 
those in the cold, damp clay. . . . But I have nothing to do but 
wait till He who is over all decides where I have to lay me 
down and die. Poor Mary lies on Shupanga brae, and ' beeks 
foment the stm.' " In that kindly Lowland dialect, the dearer for 
its very ruggedness to the rugged Scottish heart, the simplest, 
tenderest tongue that ever told of love and sorrow, does the 
indomitable, worn man, gray now with a thousand labors and 
sorrows, write down his thought of his dead wife. " On Shu- 
panga brae." So dear is everything connected with Scotland 
to this son a hemisphere distant from her, that the " brae," 
with its memories of yellow gorse and rivers like Tweed and 
Yarrow, becomes a term to express the African wilderness 
where, under the shade of a banyan-tree, was dug the grave of 
that beloved helpmeet. What tears must have blistered his 
eyes as he wrote of her ! How vividly must her lost face have 
been present to his memory- as he stood by that grave of the 
unknown negro in the " still forest " ! He had loved her so 
truly. The only time grief ever broke the great traveller down 
was when she died. 

At Ilala, five years later, Livingstone lay down in a hastily 
built hut, knowing that it was to die. Did the deep murmur of 
the neighboring forest recall to the suffering missionary in 
those last hours of agony sounds long unheard, but familiar 
to his boyhood, — the rushing of Clyde to the sea, the hum 
and whir of the factory where, at ten years of age, his early 
ardor for study led him to place an open book on some part 
of the machinery before him, that he might read even as he 
worked? He was dying now; and not on the banks of the 
Clyde, nor even near the Nile, — that more famous river on 
whose exploration his heart had so long been set, — but amidst 
jungle and noisome swamp, where scarcely so much as a drop of 
pure water could be obtained to wet his fevered lips. And pres- 
ently there came a second and invisible guest to the thatched 
hut in' the shadow of the trees. In the early morning of May I, 



204 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

1873, the faithful native servants of the explorer entered the 
rude structure where, as they supposed, he was lying sick. 
They saw their master kneeling in an attitude of prayer by his 
bedside, and instinctively drew back. Livingstone did not 
move. Presently one of them advanced softly to him, and 
touched his cheek. It had a deathly coldness ; the flush of 
the fever burned there no longer. The hero was dead. 

And so he died praying ! Wrestling with God for Africa ; 
beseeching that in the harvest-field where he had so earnestly 
labored other workers might not lack. There has been given 
him, — as the sole token by which, when his remains reached her, 
Britain could show that this was a man whom she delighted to 
honor, — a grave in Westminster Abbey. It was not the sepul- 
chre he coveted. His body will rest there, however, as peace- 
fully as though the African forest shrouded his grave in leafy 
gloom ; and his name and his example will be forever bright 
in our remembrance. This was a man who gave so much fear 
to God that he had none left for earthly dangers. Not when 
snatched as by a miracle from the jaws of the lion whose spring 
had borne him to the ground with a shattered arm, not when, 
sick and almost starving, he tottered into Ujiji, to be found 
there by the gallant Stanley and relieved from his pressing 
wants, did the indomitable spirit for a moment blench. Strong 
in his courage, inflexible in his sense of duty, lofty and earnest 
in his aims, the character of Livingstone shines on us with an 
almost ideal light. He gave his life to silence, so far as might 
be in the power of a single man, — the awful Miserere that from 
the interior of the dark continent goes up ceaselessly to 
heaven. Africa is the legacy he has left us ; the single homage 
his memory demands is that we shall render the negro civilized 
and free. 

It would require a long chapter to do more than indicate in 
the most general terms what were the services that Livingstone 
rendered to his country, to the cause of religion and humanity, 
and to the extension of geographical knowledge. An entire 
reconstruction of the map of Africa was the result. Born at 
an obscure village of Lanarkshire, Scotland, and of humble 



DAVID LIVINGSTONE. 205 

parentage, the future explorer first went to work in a cotton 
mill. At twenty-three he had, by the most strenuous exertions, 
laid by enough to undertake a college course. In 1838 he 
went up to London, presented himself, and was accepted by 
the Missionary Society as a candidate. For two years longer 
he applied himself to the study of theology and to taking his 
medical degree. At the end of these two years, namely, in 
1840, Livingstone sailed for Africa, the future scene of his 
labors. 

Livingstone's first endeavor was to make himself acquainted 
with the country by pushing out into it in various directions. 
Already, no doubt, were his clear eyes fixed upon the vast 
extent of unknown territory represented on the map of Africa 
by a blank, and inhabited by an unknown people. A two years' 
examination of the ground satisfied Livingstone that the 
proper work for white missionaries was that of opening up new 
territory and of pushing forward new stations, leaving the 
native missionaries to work the field in detail. The whole of 
his subsequent career was a development of this idea. Living- 
stone was absent sixteen years, during which time he had pene- 
trated first to Lake Ngami, which had never before been seen 
by a white man, and subsequently to the great falls of the 
Zambesi. A second journey of exploration, known as the 
Zambesi Expedition, and fitted out under the patronage of 
the Government, Livingstone being named its commander, dis- 
covered and explored Lake Nyassa on the east coast; but from 
various causes the expedition failed to accomplish as much as 
Livingstone had hoped for. Livingstone's last expedition, in 
1866, was a determined effort to penetrate to the farthest 
sources of the Nile, the " fountains of Herodotus." How he 
persevered in the face of determined opposition from the 
slave-dealers, of sickness which reduced his iron frame to a 
" ruckle o' bones," of hardship to which other experiences 
seemed mere holiday excursions, are things freshly remem- 
bered. All tidings of him having been lost, the explorer was 
believed to have perished among the African jungles ; but he 
was at length found by the rescuing party of Stanley at Ujiji 



206 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

in a deplorable condition. The arrival of the intrepid Ameri- 
can explorer on the scene was the one bright episode of this 
brave but futile attempt to carry the light of civilization into 
the very heart of equatorial Africa. After the departure of 
Stanley, Livingstone once more set about the work to which he 
had dedicated his life. His life was to be the forfeit. 



III. 



PHILANTHROPY. 




JOHN HOWARD. 



JOHN HOWARD. 

[Born 1726. Died 1790.] 

THE only blemish that has ever been thought to stain the 
character of this eminent philanthropist was connected 
with his conduct to his son. It has been laid to his charge 
that he was not only a strict but a severe parent. That charge, 
however, has been thoroughly investigated and completely dis- 
proved. The youth fell into dissolute habits early in life ; they 
were carefully concealed from the father, and being unchecked 
they brought on an illness which resulted in madness. He sur- 
vived his father nine years, but remained to the end a hopeless 
lunatic. John Howard was an affectionate and kind-hearted 
parent as well as a single-minded benefactor of his race ; and 
the vast improvement of the condition of prisons which this 
century has witnessed is in a great measure owing to his un- 
wearied exertions. Though the son of a London tradesman, 
and himself apprenticed to a grocer, Howard found himself at 
nineteen years of age in possession of a handsome fortune, pur- 
chased the time remaining of his indenture, and made a tour in 
France and Italy. On his return he married his landlady, out 
of gratitude for her kindness in having nursed him through a 
severe illness, though she was twenty-seven years his senior. 
In three years she died, and, desiring to aid the sufferers from 
the earthquake in Lisbon, he embarked for that port. Cap- 
tured by a French privateer, he was confined as a prisoner at 
Brest, and subsequently taken to the interior, whence he was 
permitted to return to England on condition of providing a 
suitable exchange. Having married again, he passed seven 
years of wedded life in continual acts of benevolence towards 
all around him. But his wife died after giving birth to a son, 
who eventually multiplied his father's sorrows. Bereaved of a 

14 



210 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

beloved partner, and having sent his son to a distance for edu- 
cation, Howard was unable to bear the solitude and seclusion of 
his home at Cardington. When he had been nominated sheriff 
in 1773, the sight of so many miseries and abuses in the prisons 
of which he had charge, and the remembrance of all he had 
seen when confined abroad as a prisoner of war, led him to 
apply to the magistrates for some remedy of the most glaring 
evils. The reply which he received induced him to prosecute 
his inquiries further, and to set out on a tour of inspection. He 
visited the prisons of one county after another; and at last, after 
having seen most of the town and county jails of England, he 
accumulated a mass of information, and laid it, in March, 1774, 
before the House of Commons. From this date the reform of 
our prison system begins. Who can describe the depth of 
prison degradation at that time? Two hundred crimes were pun- 
ishable with death, the cells noisome, the food of the coarsest, 
little straw, damp walls, narrow cells, bad water, sexes huddled 
together, stagnant mire, dunghills within the walls, brutal jail- 
ers, months of unjust imprisonment before trial, no regard to 
health or decency, and jail fever decimating the miserable in- 
mates. At Ely the prisoners by night were caged down with 
iron bars, and had on iron collars full of spikes ! But Howard 
had learned by suffering to pity sufferers ; and his famous work 
"On the State of Prisons in England and Wales" caused 
mercy to rejoice against judgment in many places. When 
called to the bar of the House of Commons, he produced an 
overwhelming impression, and he carried the legislature with 
him in mitigating the dreadful evils which it was his mission to 
combat. And what were the remedial measures Howard pro- 
posed? Prevention of crime by education, productive prison 
labor, graduated punishments, encouraging industrious and well- 
conducted prisoners by discharge before the expiration of their 
term, moral and religious instruction, and, lastly, the law of 
kindness. Read Howard's Report on the State of Prisons and 
compare it with "Seven Years of Penal Servitude" (1878), and 
you will see what one century has effected through the persistent 
carrying out of this great philanthropist's remedial measures. 




PHILIPPE PINEL. 



PHILIPPE PINEL. 211 

There was scarcely a country in Europe that Howard left un- 
visited, and the results of his travels and labors were embodied in 
the appendices to his first report. Determined at the risk of his 
life to inspect the Lazaretto system, he would not allow a ser- 
vant to accompany him because unwilling to expose him to 
so much danger. He returned, to Sm}'rna from Constantinople 
while the plague raged there, for the very purpose of sailing 
from an infected port to Venice, and undergoing the rigors of 
the quarantine system. It was when on his way through the 
East to Russia, and before he had proceeded farther than the 
Crimea, that Howard was seized with a rapid illness, which he 
believed to be an infectious fever caught in prescribing for a 
lady. In January, 1790, this precious life was taken away 
from earth; but grateful nations will never forget the name of 
Howard. Every prison in Europe feels something of his benign 
influence at the present moment ; and every prisoner has reason 
to bless his memory, for, however sad and lonely may be his 
lot, however severe the sufferings he has by his misconduct 
brought upon himself, that lot would have been more sad, those 
sufferings more severe, but for John Howard and his benevolent 
and untiring exertions. 

So true it is, that, if the evil that men do lives after them, the 
good that is done by good men is to bear abundant fruitage 
"•for all time." 



PHILIPPE PINEL. 

[Born 1745. Died 1826.] 

TN the pages of that masterpiece of genius and of horror, the 
-*- " Inferno " of Dante, we read how those lost to salvation 
were tortured by every species of torment the ingenuity of the 
spirit of evil was capable of devising. For many centuries 
those unhappy creatures who had wholly or partially lost their 



212 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

reason were subjected by their fellow-men to cruelties which it 
seems impossible to think that human nature could have been 
guilty of. It is still more dreadful to reflect how it was even 
commended as a just and Christian, as well as expedient, prac- 
tice to confine the lunatic to a living inferno, even as the soul 
of the wicked was confined to an eternal one. In the ignorant 
superstition of the times the lunatic was literally believed " to 
be possessed of a devil," and therefore it was argued he should 
be treated as one belonging to the Devil. He was to be placed 
in chains and darkness, he was to be starved and beaten, and 
his recovery, if possible, was only to be effected by some mir- 
acle of cruelty as well as ingenuity. And yet, despite the 
growth of intelligence, such superstition and such revolting 
treatment was still in existence towards the close of the last 
century. But then came the French Revolution, which with 
all its attendant horrors, with all its cry of liberty, made the 
watchword for the committal of the greatest enormities, yet 
produced a liberty of nought and opinion which in many 
respects proved a blessing to the progress of humanity. The 
false teaching of infidelity was everywhere used as the excuse 
and in the advocacy of the basest immorality. Every theory 
and opinion having the barest aspect of originality was hailed 
as a sign of a regenerating intelligence, which was to produce 
a millennium of perfect happiness. In every science sprang 
up some prophet who foretold the blessings which would be 
showered on humanity if only his real or false doctrines were 
universally accepted and implicitly believed in. But it is just 
to own that all the prophets of the great Revolution were not 
false ones. Among those who were led away by the ardent 
zeal for progress and improvement was one whose labors in 
the cause of science and humanity could have never been too 
much overvalued. We have seen that Howard, now known as 
" the philanthropist," devoted a lifetime to the good work of 
ameliorating the wretched condition of prisoners and the con- 
duct of prison management. Philippe Pinel gave up all his 
energy and talents to the reform of the existing treatment 
of the insane, and succeeded in banishing the old system of 



PHILIPPE PINEL. 213 

wicked and foolish cruelty by which those unhappy creatures 
had hitherto been treated. 

In the beautiful country of the Tarn, in the old historic 
province of Languedoc, Philippe Pinel, on the 20th of April, 
1745, first saw the light at the Chateau de Rascas of Saint- 
Andre. His father was a doctor of Saint-Paul, a man of some 
considerable intelligence. The young Pinel was first educated 
at the college of Lavaur, that town and parish which in the 
thirteenth century was the stronghold of the Albigenses. His 
father having determined on his following the medical profes- 
sion, he was afterwards sent to Toulouse, where in 1773 he 
received his diploma. At Montpellier, at the famous school ol 
medicine, he perfected his professional knowledge, and helped 
to increase his income and add to his position by giving 
lessons in mathematics. Still, like every Frenchman of intelli- 
gence and ambition, Philippe Pinel soon came to the conclu- 
sion that Paris alone was the proper field for his talents ; and 
as he owned he could not live out of the great city, the year 
1778 found him a resident in the French capital. 

The young doctor did not wait long before he began to show 
his particular bent for one most important branch of his pro- 
fession, and gave up the best part of his studies to investigating 
the existing authorities on the treatment of lunacy. Still bet- 
ter than all, Philippe Pinel speedily arrived at the conclusion 
that his own personal observations of cases of insanity might 
in the end prove more useful than merely following in the 
beaten track of, or slightly improving on, the systems of his 
predecessors and contemporaries. However, he first became 
generally known to the medical and scientific world by his 
translation from English of Dr. Culley's work, which was pub- 
lished in Paris under the title of " Traite de Medecine Pra- 
tique." At that time, wretchedly conducted as they were, the 
English lunatic asylums were considered to be the best of any 
in Europe. The German were supposed to be the worst, 
although, as they have always done on all subjects, the Ger- 
man physicians had indulged in many theories on the treat- 
ment of lunacy. With these pundits of the faculty Pinel had 



214 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

but little sympathy. Indeed, some of their modes of treatment 
seem to suggest that the pretended curers of lunacy were more 
in want of treatment for that unhappy complaint than even the 
patients submitted to their charge. One of their favorite theo- 
ries was the wondrous power of sudden surprises. The patient 
was to be walked slowly over a floor, and then unexpectedly 
let through a trap-door into a well beneath. Another medical 
wiseacre " wished for machinery by which a patient just arrived 
at an asylum, and after being drawn with frightful dangers over 
a metal bridge across a moat, could be suddenly raised to 
the top of a tower and as suddenly lowered into a dark and 
subterranean cavern; and they owned that if they could be 
made to alight among snakes and serpents it would be still 
better." 

Yet even the English doctors, who had such a strong faith in 
their own superiority, still vastly approved of the efficacy of 
torture in the cure of the insane. Dr. Darwin was the proud 
inventor of the hideous circular swing. Dr. Cox improved on 
the swing by suggesting the further advantage of its always 
being used in the dark ; the room, dungeon, or cell being made 
pleasant for the wretched patient by the introduction of wild 
noises and horrible smells. The worthy Dr. Hallam further 
remarked of this instrument of torture, " that no well-regulated 
asylum should be without it." It was not until the question 
was before the House of Commons in the year 1815 that Beth- 
lehem Hospital left off being a show-place for holiday-makers, 
the price of admission being only the moderate sum of 2d., 
so that all classes of the community might have, it within 
their power to come and torment the lunatics at their pleasure, 
even as silly and cruel children nowadays try to irritate into 
fury the animals imprisoned behind the iron bars of a menag- 
erie. As a rule, also, despite their theorizing, the mad doctors 
seldom troubled themselves by practising on their patients 
unless they were more than usually violent, or, on the other 
hand, from their extreme docility they thought they could be 
perfectly safe in approaching them. Their hands and feet were 
chained and manacled, a ragged blanket was placed over them 



PHILIPPE PINEL. 215 

as an apology to cover their nakedness, a heap of straw was 
strewn on the floor of their cells, and there, in darkness, dirt, 
loneliness, cold, and hunger, they were left to themselves. A 
deep-rooted idea prevailed everywhere as to a lunatic never 
being safe unless chained like a felon. But before his appoint- 
ment to the hospital of Bicetre in 1793 as medecin-en-cJief, Pinel 
had determinedly argued in the salons of Paris and at meetings 
of the savans against the utter folly of this idea, which could 
only be considered respectable on account of its great age. In 
1792 Couthon was persuaded by Pinel to visit the insane patients 
at Bicetre. The good doctor asked the famous, or infamous, 
revolutionist to question the lunatics; but he shuddered and 
turned away at the bare thought of the danger he might incur 
by going near them. " Do what you please," said he to Pinel ; 
" you will become their victim." 

By such fears as these the doctor was but little affected. He 
held that by judicious treatment, by a mixture of kindness and 
firmness, by an untiring patience, and by never under any cir- 
cumstances irritating a patient, even the lunatic supposed to 
be most dangerous might be allowed a great share of liberty. 
Yet so bigoted was the opposition to his idea of allowing any 
share of liberty to a lunatic, that he was actually attacked by a 
Paris mob, which had conceived the idea that the doctor in- 
tended to let the most dangerous lunatics loose upon the city. 
One of Pinel's first experiments, and which proved the perfect 
truth of his theory, was with an English captain, who for forty 
years had been chained and manacled in a cell of the Bicetre. 
This man was acknowledged to be a most dangerous lunatic. 
His paroxysms of madness were most violent, and he had even 
killed one of his keepers with his manacles. Yet Pinel never 
for one moment doubted as to its being judicious to allow his 
chains to be taken off. Approaching the unhappy creature, he 
said to him, " Captain, I will order your chains to be taken off 
and give you liberty to walk in the court, if you will promise 
me to behave well and injure no one." 

As might be imagined, the man was considerably surprised, 
and his answer was by no means unnatural. 



2l6 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

" Yes, I promise you ; but you are laughing at me. You are 
all too afraid to touch me." 

" I have six persons ready to enforce my commands, if neces- 
sary," answered Pinel. " Believe me, then, on my word. I will 
give you your liberty if you will put on this strait-waistcoat." 

The man readily submitted, and, his chains being removed, 
he was left to do as he pleased. For the first quarter of an 
hour, owing to the stiffness of his limbs from his long and close 
imprisonment, he could hardly rise from his seat. But at 
length he gained both strength and courage, and leaving his 
cell walked up the staircase, gazing at the sky, and uttering the 
expression, " How beautiful ! " 

For the rest of the day he walked about in evident enjoy- 
ment, and quite free from the least sign of approaching irrita- 
tion. In the evening he returned of his own accord to rest, and, 
for the first time, a comfortable bed being prepared for him, he 
fell tranquilly to sleep. 

A few days after this Pinel released fifty-three patients from 
their chains and cells. What was most remarkable, as showing 
the accuracy of his judgment and his sympathetic power of dis- 
covering the moral and physical condition of his patients, was 
that the violent lunatic whom he had first released, and who 
before that time was considered to be most dangerous, was of 
the greatest use to the institution in persuading his unhappy 
brethren in misfortune to so quietly conduct themselves as to 
gain the approval of the doctor, and so gain a further share of 
liberty. 

In 1795, owing to the great success of his mode of treatment, 
Pinel was appointed to the Salpetriere ; and, his fame being 
now spread throughout France and even beyond his own coun- 
try, he was made Profcsseur de Physique Medicale at the Paris 
School of Medicine, and not long afterwards Profcsseur de 
Pathologique Interne. In 1803 he was awarded the honor of 
being elected a member of the Institute, and was made secretary- 
general of that learned body. 

To enumerate the particular works of Pinel would be only to 
give a list of scientific names of little interest to the general 



PHILIPPE PINEL. 217 

reader. However, his " Nosographie" and his " Traite Medico- 
Philosophique sur 1' Alienation Mentale, ou la Manie," are now 
universally known throughout the whole of the medical world. 
The latter work was translated into English in 1802, and in the 
"Edinburgh Review "was received with more or less adverse 
criticism. It even received a heavy attack from the manager of 
Bethlehem Hospital ; but, considering the way that famous in- 
stitution was in those days conducted, Pinel might well have 
taken such abuse of his opinions as rather a compliment to his 
intelligence and humanity than as a conclusive proof of his 
folly or his ignorance. 

As to the private life of Pinel, it was to the highest degree 
exemplary. Full of kindness, disinterested, generous, and liv- 
ing with the greatest simplicity, he yet possessed a firmness of 
character which at all times prevented him from yielding to the 
least temptation of evil. Charitable he was to all in want. 
Condorcet during the troublous times of the Revolution found a 
safe home in the house of Pinel. In demeanor the great physi- 
cian was naturally modest, so much so that it was often mis- 
taken for a nervous timidity. He was a man, too, above all 
ungentlemanly meanness, and would never at any time join in 
any of the cabals or intrigues of the college faculty. As would 
follow as a matter of course, his lectures in the Faculte de 
Paris were well attended. Still Philippe Pinel, like many men 
of shining talents joined with the soundest knowledge and 
experience, was far from being a great orator. In speaking he 
failed to possess an easy flow of words, and his speeches were 
frequently broken by awkward pauses. But what could not be 
easily followed in his set lectures could be readily gleaned from 
them when published in print. Yet the best way of all to learn 
the secrets of his system was to visit the asylums of the Bicetre 
and Salpetriere. There but in a few short months could the 
medical student acquire a sound knowledge of his valuable pre- 
cepts, and still more quickly learn the principles of his daily 
practice. 

As to the position which Pinel holds in the ranks of fame, it 
is not nearly so exalted as it should be. He lived in an age 



2l8 



OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



when the slaughter of millions excited more attention than the 
salvation of thousands. The sounding names of Mirabeau, 
Robespierre, and Danton, of Napoleon, Ney, and his comrades, 
have helped somewhat to obscure that of Philippe Pinel. But 
he has a fame which we hope will for many centuries burn with 
a gentle and kindly light. His name will ever be a sweet 
sound to the ears of the feeling and humane. And in thinking 
of him we cannot but call to mind the lines of Shirley, — 

" Only the actions of the just 
Smell sweet and blossom in the dust." 



ELIZABETH FRY. 



[Born May 21, 1780. Died Oct. 12, 1845.] 

A FTER having given a brief memoir of Howard, it is but 
~l*- natural that we should make an opportunity of noticing 
another and, if possible, still more devoted friend of the un- 
fortunate and criminal classes, — the noble-minded and truly 
unselfish Elizabeth Fry. 

"Woman's mission" is now a household word. It was Mrs. 
Fry's opinion that every woman has her individual vocation, 
and that in following it she fulfils her mission. She laid great 
stress on circumstances and position in life, and on personal 
abilities. So far from thinking, as is now too commonly and 
indiscriminately thought, that any woman might do as she did, 
if she would, she considered domestic duties to be the first and 
greatest earthly claims in the life of woman. Of course some 
allowance for peculiarities of opinion on minor points must be 
made in consideration of the tenets of the Society to which she 
belonged ; but aside from these it was her unqualified convic- 
tion that there is a sphere of usefulness open to all. Ladies' 
work in general, such as visiting the sick and poor, looking 
after village schools, and assisting the work of benevolent 




ELIZABETH FRY. 



ELIZABETH FRY. 219 

societies, she by no means overlooked. These matters all had 
her fullest appreciation. Still she felt there was something 
beyond. There was the hospital and the prison. There were 
multitudes of homeless and abandoned children. There were 
vast numbers of her own sex, sinking- daily in degradation and 
guilt. Many who had been once in pure and happy homes, or 
who had occupied useful positions in business or domestic ser- 
vice, already, so far as this world was concerned, were, sunk and 
ruined forevermore. She saw these poor creatures on a wide 
and downward road, with no hand outstretched to save them 
from their inevitable fate, or to assist them in helping them- 
selves, when, as rarely happened, they were even willing to be 
reclaimed. Every variety and every grade of vice met her in 
the prisons which she visited, — those who sinned for want of 
thought, and those who revelled in their guilt and gloried in 
recklessness and impurity. Yet she did not despair. Her 
own life she freely devoted to what others thought a hopeless 
task, and she firmly believed that a mighty power might be 
wielded by her own sex to stem this torrent of vice, — a force 
that the gentle, the educated, the virtuous, might exert over 
the ignorant and criminal. The way in which this moral force 
was to be brought to bear she pointed out by walking in it 
herself, — 

"And in her duty prompt at every call 

She watched and wept, she prayed and wept for all. 
She tried each art, reproved each dull delay, 
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way." 

Elizabeth Gurney was the third daughter of John Gurney, 
Esq., a merchant of Norwich, where she was born. During 
her sixth year the family removed to Earlham Hall, formerly 
belonging to the Bacons, and in this home her unmarried 
life was spent. Both her parents were descended from dis- 
tinguished Quaker families, — her father from the Gurneys, who 
were the associates of George Fox; her mother from the 
Scotch Barclays, the most noted of whom was Robert Barclay, 
the author of the famous apology for the Quakers. Hence 
very early in life she became the subject of deep religious 



220 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

impressions. She was gifted by nature with a good voice and 
a strong taste for music; but these, and the natural accompani- 
ment of dancing, were of course discouraged by the religious 
circle in which she moved. When she was twelve years of 
age her mother died, and hence the defectiveness of her 
education and the waywardness and self-will of her character 
as a girl. Her quickness and originality, however, made ample 
amends for these defects, though, perhaps, not in her own 
opinion. What as a child had been a touch of obstinacy, 
became in the woman a noble firmness and finely tempered 
decision. Childish cunning ripened into a more than ordinary 
penetration into character. Her idleness as a girl was prob- 
ably nothing but a disinclination to study or work in ordinary 
grooves ; for as a woman her thoughtfulness betrayed a deep- 
rooted habit of thinking that must have been hers from a very 
early period. 

At seventeen she had a taste of the gayeties of London life, — 
balls, theatres, and concerts. Her father gave her this oppor- 
tunity freely; but it was not to her taste. Her mind was too 
serious for such vanities to give her any permanent or solid 
satisfaction. 

To overcome her natural timidity she adopted a somewhat 
drastic remedy, — she accustomed herself to stay in the dark 
and to ramble away into lonely and unoccupied apartments in 
her father's mansion at Earlham. This was before she was 
twenty years of age. 

Her prison work began with her visit to Newgate in Febru- 
ary, 1 8 1 3, — thirteen years after her marriage to Mr. Joseph 
Fry. She was then the mother of eight children. 

After her father's death, in 1809, she had become a regular 
minister in the Church to which she belonged. Thus she 
looked upon her mission to the unfortunate women in Newgate 
and elsewhere as part of her public duties. For thirty years she 
never missed an opportunity of carrying out this truly philan- 
thropic object. In 1830 she extended her field of labor to 
foreign prisons. The following year she obtained an interview 
with the Princess Victoria, having a hope, as she relates in her 



ELIZABETH FRY. 221 

diary, of influencing the future Queen of England on the im- 
portant question of slavery. She thought the Princess " a 
sweet, lovely, and hopeful child." In 1840 she speaks of 
another interview, and a present for a "refuge" of ^50 from 
the youthful Queen. Space fails us to record the thousandth 
part of her eventful and interesting life. Extended particulars 
from her own letters and diary may be met with in the excel- 
lent memoir by her daughters. How she won the fame which 
is so honorable to her memory ; how she traversed the Conti- 
nent, talking with all manner of pitiable people ; how she made 
her way into the refuges and prisons of Holland and Germany, 
descending into the fetid air of the jail at Amsterdam, or 
threading the dismal corridors in the infamous dungeons of 
Magdeburg; with what untiring earnestness she argued, in elo- 
quent fragments of French, with prison authorities at Potsdam 
and Berlin, or encountered the perils of the plague hospital 
at Paris; ventured into the unsavory precincts of Saint-Lazare, 
and talked with the aimless loungers of La Force ; how still 
she journeyed to La Perrache and the Maison d'Arret at Lyons, 
from Lyons through Nismes to Marseilles, and penetrated 
even to the galleys of Toulon, but everywhere bent on the one 
great errand of mercy to the fallen ; — all this must be passed 
over. Thirty years of such labors must and do tell upon the 
condition of the places which, like Howard, she endeavored to 
improve. To the influence of her work let us add the spirit 
which now pervades the upper ranks of society ; and we shall 
see not only how great is the cause for thankfulness for the 
past, but how wide also is the ground for hopefulness in the 
years to come. 



222 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 






BISHOP KEN. 

[Born 1637. Died 1710.] 

ON the 30th of June, 1688, King James II. had been review- 
ing his troops, in number 16,000, on Hounslow Heath. The 
day was hot, and he had retired into Lord Fevcrsham's tent, 
when an express arrived with news of great importance. The 
King was greatly disturbed on hearing it, and left directly for 
London. Hardly had he quitted the camp when a deafening 
shout was heard. It was the soldiers' extravagant expression 
of tumultuous joy; and the mortified sovereign learned from 
Feversham that they were shouting because the bishops were 
acquitted. "Do you call that nothing?" said James, and then 
repeated what he had said when the news of the acquittal first 
reached him : " So much the worse for them ! " It was not 
clear for whom it was to be worse. Most of those around him 
seemed to think it would be better for everybody. Bonfires 
were being kindled, volleys of artillery fired, bells were pealing, 
and horsemen spurring along every road to carry over the 
country the joyful news. The seven bishops were regarded as 
confessors who had exposed their lives in defence of the rights 
of conscience, to vindicate the law and resist the craft and des- 
potism of the Crown. The Declaration of Indulgence, for 
refusing to publish which in their dioceses they had been tried, 
superseded the law by royal decree, overthrew the British Consti- 
tution, carried the dispensing power to an intolerable length, 
and, under pretence of religious toleration, went far towards 
forcing on the English people a religion to which they were in- 
tensely averse. The defence of the national liberty was for the 
time intrusted, by an extraordinary combination of circum- 
stances, not to generals or statesmen, but to seven men whose 
only weapons were their pastoral staves. If they had failed in 




BISHOP KEN. 



BISHOP KEN. 223 

courage and resolution, their clergy would have felt themselves 
abandoned, and the encroachments of the Stuart monarch would 
have passed all bounds. If they — with Bishop Ken, be it re- 
membered, among them — had quailed before their duty in the 
meeting at Lambeth on May 18, 1688, they would not, under 
the presidency of Archbishop Sancroft, have drawn up the 
petition to the King in which they maintained that the Declara- 
tion of Indulgence, which they were unable in conscience to 
order to be read in churches, was " founded on such a dispens- 
ing power as had been often declared illegal in Parliament, and 
particularly in the years 1662 and 1672 and in the beginning of 
his Majesty's reign." 

If we are calling Bishop Ken to our readers' affectionate 
remembrance to-day, it is because his name is affixed to this 
document, which proved in its results the cause of England's 
deliverance from the peril of her liberty, ecclesiastical and civil. 
He was by far the most outspoken of the six bishops who 
stood before the King that night at ten o'clock. " Sire," he 
said, " I hope you will give that liberty to us which you allow 
to all mankind." He and his brethren disclaimed all disloyalty, 
but they would obey God rather than men. So they were dis- 
missed with every mark of the royal displeasure. The next 
day was Sunday, and the curiosity and excitement were great. 
Would the clergy succumb and read the Declaration? Only 
four in London read it, and not more than two hundred in 
the whole country. Those who did so were despised for their 
pusillanimity, and the congregations quitted the churches the 
moment they began to read. 

On June 8 the bishops were summoned to appear at the 
council board. Every effort was made to intimidate them and 
to cause them to become their own accusers. They were re- 
quired to enter into recognizances, which they refused. A war- 
rant was therefore made out against them, directing the lieutenant 
of the Tower to keep them in safe custody. They passed down 
the river in a barge, the people lining the banks all the way 
and kneeling for their blessing. Their prison was attended like 
a royal court. On the 15th they were brought up to Westmin- 



224 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

stcr, and indicted for having written, " under pretence of a peti- 
tion, a certain false, pernicious, and scandalous libel." In the 
interval between the commitment and the trial the greatest 
efforts were made to induce Ken and his episcopal brethren to 
submit and ask pardon, but they all stood firm. On the day of 
the trial half the peers of England attended in the court. Their 
counsel denounced the King's dispensing power as illegal, and 
showed the absurdity of designating a petition privately pre- 
sented to the King as a malicious libel. The judges were 
divided on the question of its being a libel; but the jury, after 
remaining locked up all night, came into court at ten o'clock 
on the morning of June 30, and the foreman pronounced a ver- 
dict of Not Guilty. The effect of this decision on the city, the 
camp, the King, and the nation has been already described. 
The portraits of the bishops were eagerly sought for and care- 
fully cherished. A medal was struck bearing the effigy of the 
Archbishop on one side and of the Bishop of London and six 
other bishops, including Ken, on the reverse. Of these none 
was so remarkable, none so much beloved, respected, and 
admired, as he of whose life and character we must now add 
a few particulars. 

Thomas Ken, Bishop of Bath and Wells, lived through two 
civil wars and two revolutions. He was twelve years old when 
King Charles I. was brought to the block, and twenty-four 
when, on the anniversary of " the royal martyrdom," Cromwell, 
after having governed England as " his Highness the Lord 
Protector," was dragged from his grave, his body suspended on 
a gibbet, beheaded, and buried again at Tyburn. Though 
educated during the Commonwealth, Ken early imbibed the' 
principles of " Church and King," for which he afterwards 
suffered loss and deprivation. Educated at Winchester and 
New College, Oxford, he became a fellow of Winchester Col- 
lege ; and when Charles II. had reigned as king about seven 
years, he was presented to the rectory of Brixton, in the Isle of 
Wight, and a prebendal stall in the Church of Westminster. 
We will not now follow him to Holland, where he was chaplain 
to the Princess of Orange, or to Tangier, whither he accom- 



BISHOP KEN. 225 

parried Lord Dartmouth. It is more to our purpose to remem- 
ber how he stood by the bedside of the dying monarch, and 
exhorted him to repent sincerely and receive the holy com- 
munion at the hands of the bishops of his Church. Of all the 
prelates he was the one whom the King liked best ; but upon 
this point he was not able to prevail with his royal master. 
He attended also on the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth in 
his last hours, and earnestly sought to induce him to meet his 
fate in a becoming spirit, and acknowledge that his resistance 
to the government of James II. was sinful. But here also the 
good bishop failed of success. Nowhere does he appear to 
greater advantage than in the jails of the West of England, 
exhorting and consoling the captives taken in Monmouth's 
train, whose religious and political principles he abhorred. 
Their coarse and scanty prison fare was improved by one whose 
beloved cathedral they had defaced and desecrated. In vain 
he pleaded for the victims of Jeffrey's " bloody assize," and 
described in pathetic language the deplorable state of his dio- 
cese. The whole air of Somersetshire, he said, was tainted 
with death. But James was inexorable; and not the least 
insane of his follies was that of alienating such a friend of 
monarchical principles as the Bishop of Bath and Wells. It 
was against all his wishes and instincts that Bishop Ken felt 
himself constrained to join in the consultation of bishops at 
Lambeth and in their petition to the King. Loyalty with him 
was little short of a passion ; but the excesses of the Crown 
were so outrageous that even every moderate Roman Catholic 
deplored in secret the frantic conduct of the Government, 
which Protestants openly denounced and resisted. Yet this 
champion of England's liberties in Church and State, when 
James had been driven from his kingdom and a new sovereign 
had been called to the throne, could not bring himself to take 
the oaths of allegiance to William of Orange. James II., with 
all his overriding of the law, was still in his eyes the lawful 
king; and " not for wealth," as Lord Macaulay wrote, "not 
for a palace, not for a peerage, would he run the risk of ever 
feeling the torments of remorse." 

*5 



226 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Being ejected from his see in 1689, Ken retired to Longlcat, 
now the residence of the Marquis of Bath, and then owned by 
one of his ancestors, Lord Weymouth. Here he composed 
many of those devout and affecting hymns, with two of which 
we are so familiar, the Morning and the Evening Hymn, — 
" Awake, my soul, and with the sun," and " Glory to thee, my 
God, this night." Not a morning breaks, not an evening 
closes, but tens of thousands of Christian souls commend them- 
selves to the Divine Keeper and Guardian in these simple and 
sacred strains. It was at Longleat that the Bishop rested when 
on his way " to the Bath " for relief from an illness with which 
he had been seized at Sherborne. Here he took to his bed, 
and here breathed his last, desiring to be buried " in the 
churchyard of the nearest parish within his diocese, under the 
east window of the chancel, just at sunrising." The condition 
was fulfilled, and Lord Houghton has described the monument 
over his remains : — 

" A basket-work where bars are bent, — 
Iron in place of osier ; 
And shapes about that represent 
A mitre and a crosier." 

No one resisted the despotism of the last Stuart king with 
more effect than Bishop Ken, because his character stood so 
high for conscientious loyalty. The first rays of the morning 
sun do not, as he desired and intended, glint across the place of 
his sepulture; but the light of history will never fail to shed on 
his memory a beam of hearty approval and honest praise. 
Happily the Churchmen of the present day are seldom 
brought into such straits as he, — their path of duty is clearer 
and pleasanter; nor do religious persons now, like the fanatics 
of former times, think it a sacred duty to persecute their 
neighbors. We have not so learned Christ. 




REGINALD HEBER. 



REGINALD HEBER. 227 



REGINALD HEBER. 

[Born 17S3. Died 1826.] 

AMONG the benefactors of men, spiritually or temporally, 
Heber is one who will command respect from men of 
diverse creeds and countries, the learned and the ignorant, old 
and young, rich and poor; for such was his power in manner, 
conversation, and unassuming kindliness, that he gathered uni- 
versal respect, love, and veneration. 

Descended from an ancient Yorkshire family, he was born at 
Malpas, in Cheshire, on April 21, 1783. Early in life he- 
showed indications of the Christian temper and intellectual gifts 
by which he was in after life distinguished. Of the former, one 
anecdote will be enough. Travelling with his mother across 
the wild mountainous country west of Craven in very tempestu- 
ous weather, she became alarmed at the fury of the storm ; but 
Reginald, sitting on her knee, said, " Do not be afraid, mamma; 
God will take care of us." 

At eight years of age he was sent to the grammar school of 
Whitchurch, having learned the rudiments of Latin from his 
father. At thirteen he was put under a tutor for preparation 
for Oxford, and at seventeen years of age he entered Brazenose 
College. At this seat of learning he " soon became, beyond all 
question or comparison, the most distinguished student of his 
time." Here, as elsewhere, he became a centre of deep, 
earnest, and spiritual life, so that every one with whom he was 
brought in contact derived a salutary influence. In his first 
year he gained the prize for Latin verse by the " Carmen Secu- 
lare," and in 1803 for English verse by his "Palestine," which 
at once gave Heber a place among English poets. In the fol- 
lowing year his father, whose conversation had great influence 



228 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

on his children, died. In 1805 Hebcr took his degree, and was 
elected Fellow of All Souls. In the same year he set out with his 
friend, Mr. John Thornton, for a tour in the North of Europe, 
Sweden, Norway, Russia, and thence to the Crimea, returning 
through Germany and Austria to England. He found a field 
little trodden, and in his correspondence exhibits great acumen. 
During his travels he kept an accurate journal, extracts from 
which were afterwards printed as notes to the travels of Dr. E. 
D. Clarke. They are written in the animated and picturesque 
style which rendered in after years his " Indian Journal " so fas- 
cinating and readable. Shortly after his return he began to 
prepare for holy orders. He had designed a work of " collect- 
ing, arranging, and illustrating all of ancient and modern litera- 
ture which could unfold the history and throw light on the 
present state of Scythia, — that region of mystery and fable, — 
that source whence eleven times in the history of man the living 
clouds of war have been breathed over all the nations of the 
South." But now he determined to " apply himself wholly to 
this one thing," and, however fascinating the above plan was 
to a mind constituted as Heber's, it was firmly renounced and 
abandoned. About this period he took his degree of M.A., 
and soon after married Amelia, daughter of William Shipley, 
Dean of St. Asaph, and was settled in the living of Hodnet, 
Shropshire. In this parish he spent fifteen years. Here he, who 
might have won the highest fame in the literary world, devoted 
himself to what the world might esteem the humbler duties of a 
Christian pastor. He was happy in his visitation of the sick 
and afflicted. Daily he went among his people, advising the 
perplexed, comforting the distressed, relieving the needy, mak- 
ing peace among those at strife. When disease spread, he, at 
the hazard of his life, remained firm at his post. In society his 
character was as attractive as in the parish. " His talents 
might have made him proud; but he was humble-minded as a 
child, — eager to call forth the intellectual stores of others 
rather than to display his own, — equally willing to reason with 
the wise or take a share in the innocent gayeties of a winter's 
fireside. The attentions he received might have made him self- 



REGINALD HEBER. 229 

ish, but his own inclinations were ever the last he consulted; in- 
deed, of all the features in his character, this was, perhaps, the 
most prominent, that in him self did not seem to be denied or 
mortified, so much as to be forgotten. . . . That he was some- 
times deceived in his favorable estimate of mankind, it would be 
vain to deny; such a guileless, unsuspicious singleness of heart 
as his cannot always be proof against cunning. But if he had 
not this worldly knowledge, he wanted it, perhaps, in common 
with most men of genius and virtue ; the ' wisdom of the ser- 
pent ' was almost the only wisdom in which he did not abound." 

In 1812 he began a " Dictionary of the Bible," and published 
a volume of poems. In 181 5 he was appointed to deliver the 
Bampton Lectures at Oxford, and chose for his subject " The 
Personality and Office of the Christian Comforter." These lec- 
tures were much admired for their research and illustration. In 
1822 he published a life of Jeremy Taylor, with a review of his 
writings. A reviewer says of this work, it is " of maturer knowl- 
edge and more chastened taste than his lectures, and peculiarly 
interesting from the evident sympathy with which he contem- 
plated the career of that heavenly-minded man, with whom, 
indeed, he had much in common." 

In the same year he was elected preacher at Lincoln's Inn, 
where among his hearers were men distinguished in public 
life or in religious and philanthropical endeavors. In the 
following year a wider field of usefulness was opened up for 
him by the death of Bishop Middleton, of Calcutta. Severe 
was the conflict which now ensued in Heber's mind, thinking 
not of himself but others, between the love of country and 
friends, his own modesty which made him distrustful of himself, 
and the conviction that this was a call from God, and that to 
refuse would be to be deaf to the Divine voice. Twice he 
refused, but recalled his refusal, and finally accepted the office 
with views and feelings of the deepest and most conscientious 
nature. " In making this decision," he writes to Mr. Thornton, 
" I hope and believe that I have been guided by conscientious 
feelings. I can at least say that I have prayed to God most 
heartily to show me the path of duty and to give me grace to 



230 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

follow it, and the tranquillity of mind which I now feel (very 
different from that which I experienced after having declined it) 
induces me to hope that I have his blessing and approbation." 

Having been made a D. D. by the University of Oxford, he 
returned to Hodnet to prepare for his departure to India. The 
fashion of presenting testimonials was not the custom of those 
days ; but rich and poor united to give to him whom they so 
deeply loved a memento of their affection and respect. 

He was consecrated at Lambeth on the ist of June (Ascen- 
sion Day), preached his last sermon in England on the 8th, on 
the 1 6th embarked on board the "Thomas Grcnville," East- 
Indiaman, and on the 18th sailed from Deal. On board ship 
he officiated as chaplain, spending all his leisure in assiduous 
study of both Hindostanee and Persian. To him the circum- 
scribed circumstances of a sea voyage brought no ennui. He 
found work and did it. On the 3d of October the vessel was 
safely anchored in the Sangor Roads. " The first sight of 
India," he writes, " has little which can please even those who 
have been three months at sea. The coast is so flat as only to 
be distinguished, when very near it, by the tall cocoa-trees 
which surround the villages." On the 7th he left Diamond 
Harbor (interesting as being the first possession of the East 
India Company in Bengal) on board the Government yacht, 
and on the evening of the 10th he landed in Calcutta. On his 
arrival he found a vast accumulation of business awaiting his 
attention. With his usual energy and unwearying industry he 
applied himself to it. But by systematic working he found 
time to become acquainted with the operations of every 
charitable institution and advocate the claims of every good 
work. He consecrated, soon after his arrival, the churches of 
St. Stephen, Dum-Dum, and St. James, Calcutta. 

In his work he was brought into contact with men of diverse 
opinions and beliefs. He expresses his judgment in the follow- 
ing words : — 

" This is, on the whole, a lively, intelligent, and interesting people. 
Of the upper classes a considerable proportion learn our language, 
read our books and our newspapers, and show a desire to court our 



REGINALD HEBER. 231 

society ; the peasants are anxious to learn English, and though certainly 
very few of them have as yet embraced Christianity, I do not think 
their reluctance is more than might be expected in any country where 
a system so entirely different from that previously professed was offered, 
— offered, too, by those of whom, as their conquerors, they may well 
entertain considerable jealousy." 

On caste he observes : " The institution of caste hardens their 
hearts against each other to a degree which is often most re- 
volting." His whole energies were directed to the great work, 
the evangelization of India. He travelled extensively, planting 
churches and encouraging missionaries. Of his route through 
the upper provinces, between Calcutta and Bombay, a full 
narrative has been published in two volumes. He also visited 
the Deccan, Ceylon, etc., carrying out with characteristic zeal 
the great object of his mission. Success in some degree even in 
life crowned his efforts ; but the fruit of his work was seen after 
his death, which so suddenly put an end to the personal carrying 
out of many projects for the benefit and welfare of India. 

A very interesting account of his work on the day of his 
death appears in the journal of Mr. Robinson, his chaplain. 
He was found dead in his bath, evidently from apoplexy, April 3, 
1826. 

At sunrise on the following morning the remains of the 
Bishop were interred on the north side of the communion-table 
in St. John's Church, in the very place where but a few hours 
before he had blessed the people. The civil and military 
powers united to show every mark of esteem and love. The 
natives, without respect of creed, Hindoos and Mahometans 
as well as Christians, formed a vast concourse along the road 
leading to the church, that they might catch a glimpse of his 
bier. His name, as that of a man endowed with singular gifts, 
and influenced with a sincere desire to benefit his fellow-men, 
had become known to them, and had excited their reverence 
and regard. 

The death of Heber excited a feeling of sorrow in India more 
widely spread than had ever been known before. Meetings 
were held in various places throughout the three Presidencies, 



232 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

in which the highest joined with persons of every rank and 
condition to deplore his death and devise means for honoring 
his memory. Especially was this the case at Madras, where 
natives and Europeans — without distinction of caste, color, or 
religion — united in raising a memorial. All felt that person- 
ally they had lost a friend, a benefactor, and a father. Memo- 
rials were raised in several of the Indian churches and in his 
own beloved Hodnet. In Bishop's College, Calcutta, scholar- 
ships were founded. A beautiful monument was erected in 
St. George's Church, Madras, and another in St. Paul's Cathe- 
dral, London. 

Bishop Heber had not quite completed his forty-third year 
at the time of his death. " His sun was still in its meridian 
power, and its warmth most genial, when it was so suddenly 
eclipsed." 

He gave early indications of that love . for the classics, in 
the study of which he afterwards gained such high honors. 
At the age of seven he translated Phsedrus into English verse. 
With a natural thirst for knowledge, a strong memory to retain 
what he had learned, and a glowing fancy, he combined also 
that industry and application necessary to develop the other 
faculties into important results. Not possessing originality in 
the same degree, the classics became his models. For the 
exact sciences he had not the same relish. Logic — at least 
as unfolded by Aldrich — he even disliked. He had a fine 
taste for drawing and natural history. He wrote a history of 
the Cossacks as a contribution to the " Quarterly Review." As 
an author he is most popular by his hymns and sacred pieces. 
These breathe a strain of the most exalted piety and Christian 
devotion, and thus accurately reflect himself. But it is in the 
Christian pastor of Hodnet, and the apostolic Bishop of Cal- 
cutta, that Heber is especially entitled to our regard, and calls 
forth our admiration for his devotion to his work, his energy 
when once the choice was made. No half-hearted endeavor 
did he put forth ; but what his hand found to do he did with all 
his might, being animated with the highest enthusiasm, — that 
of the Christian. 




WILLIAM PENN. 



WILLIAM PENN. 233 



WILLIAM PENN. 

[Born 1644. Died 1718.] 

WILLIAM PENN was born in London in 1644. He was 
the son of Admiral Sir William Penn, a descendant from 
an ancient line of ancestry in Buckinghamshire, and distin- 
guished as a naval commander under the Commonwealth and 
afterwards under the Government of Charles II. Admiral Penn 
was warmly attached to the cause of Charles, and entered into a 
secret correspondence with the object of placing him on the 
throne ; but being detected he was for a time thrown into prison. 
Confinement, however, had no effect in deterring him from his 
plans and intentions. Immediately on his release he entered 
into union with Monk and others ; and they finally achieved 
their objects, for which royal favors were abundantly bestowed 
and as eagerly accepted by one of the most vain and ambitious 
men of the time. 

Admiral Penn had strong resolves for his ambition. Himself 
already on the ladder of fame, having acquired wealth as well 
as powerful friends and allies, he sought hard for additional 
royal favors, all of which in the extravagance of anticipation he 
hoped one day to heap upon his son. William Penn, however, 
proved himself incapable of impression under the projected 
charm of such a brilliant career. He was inclined to be serious, 
fond of meditation and retirement, and exhibited a manifest 
objection to entertain the proposals and designs of his father. 
This arose from an independence of mind and depth of thought 
which in after life proved to be the basis of his remarkable, 
manly, and Christian character. His education commenced at 
Chigwell Grammar School ; subsequently he was removed to a 
private school on Tower Hill, and a special tutor was retained 
for him in his father's house. His progress in learning was 



234 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

rapid, and at fifteen he entered Christ Church, Oxford, where 
he was associated with Robert Spencer, afterwards Earl of Sun- 
derland, and the celebrated John Locke. Here the general 
seriousness of his deportment was shaken for a time by the in- 
fluence of surrounding associations ; but he nevertheless con- 
tinued his studies with unabated vigor, by which his taste for 
languages, history, and theology was considerably enlarged, 
and his mental powers were developed. He was conspicuous 
for force of argument on theological subjects and strong oppo- 
sition to the popish practices of the day, and at this period was 
probably influenced by a new form of belief, from which it may 
be said his real life in all its phases began. He renounced 
the pompous and imposing ritual to which the university 
commanded obedience, and, with several others, preferred the 
simple and unostentatious mode of worship of the despised 
Quakers. Threats and persecution followed. The academical 
gown was laid aside ; an order of Charles for its restoration was 
contemptuously disregarded ; and the climax of rebellion was 
reached by the non-comformist few tearing the badge from the 
backs of the more compliant graduates. This act, in itself to 
be condemned, was, however, the embodiment of a power yet 
in its infancy, which was destined to achieve greater victories, 
and tear away the hideous outgrowths of a superstitious and 
sophisticated age. Penn and his associates in the schism were 
locked out of the university. By this act the State religion lost 
an ardent worker and an able advocate ; while the Christian 
Church gained a sincere exponent of the truth, and probably 
the most powerful enemy to all that is adverse to the worship 
of the New Covenant. The disgrace which the son thus 
brought upon himself mortified and chagrined his father, and 
William Penn was banished from his paternal home. The 
Admiral intended that his son should become a great man ; 
but he little knew how in the highest sense this would be 
accomplished, while his own plans in the same direction would 
be set aside. 

William Penn retired to France. He was received at the 
Court of Louis XIV., but still continued his intellectual studies, 



WILLIAM PENN. 235 

and acquired considerable knowledge by European travel. On 
his return he was put to the study of the law; but the immedi- 
ate outbreak of the great plague caused him to alter his plans, 
while he became awfully impressed with the solemnity of the 
visitation, by which thousands were suddenly snatched from 
business and the cares and whirl of giddy life. These impres- 
sions were doubtless confirmed subsequently when attending in 
Cork a meeting of Friends, at which Thomas Loe, a minister 
of the society, was present, and whose meeting William Penn 
attended at Oxford. 

Admiral Penn soon learned that his son had turned Quaker. 
He Avas summoned home, and his father demanded an explana- 
tion ; but all that could be done was without avail. William 
Penn's mind was irrevocably fixed, his Christian principles es- 
tablished, and from these he resolved never to swerve. He was 
again expelled from his father's home, and, adopting the simple 
attire of a despised Quaker travelling in the ministry, visited 
various places preaching the W 7 ord. He had now laid aside the 
gay trappings and arms of the period, and had taken up the 
sword of the Spirit, with the helmet of salvation and the shield 
of faith; he had spurned a ducal coronet and accepted by faith 
a princely crown. 

The life and manner of William Penn were wholly changed. 
Realizing the priceless value of salvation, and fully alive to the 
high and noble privileges which follow on the Christian life, he 
resolved to devote himself henceforth to the work of spread- 
ing the light to the benighted thousands around. The corrupt 
state of the Church and the dogmatism of its blind followers 
fostered a continued line of persecution against all who dared to 
think differently on spiritual matters ; hence thousands of Dis- 
senters were thrown into prison to end their days in filth and a 
poisoned atmosphere, and in protracted suffering and even 
starvation. William Penn, with others prominent in raising 
the voice of truth against error and oppression, became a 
sufferer, and spent many years of his life within prison walls for 
conscience' sake. But here he was not idle. His busy brain 
and ready will stood him in good need; for he occupied his 



236 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

time in diligently writing and issuing the results of his labors, 
either as trenchant and unanswerable replies to his opponents, 
or in the tender, loving appeals to his coworkers and those 
whose salvation he earnestly longed and prayed for. His 
literary productions at these times were numerous ; among 
them may be particularly named, " No Cross, No Crown," 
which at the present day is much valued by believers. 

Unsettled as these times were, mainly by reason of the fierce 
opposition of those whose mission, if rightly performed, should 
have been the preaching of peace, it was impossible for a man 
of William Penn's character and feelings to escape the bitter 
persecution of those whose acts he questioned and condemned. 
As a leader he was a marked man, and always one of the first 
to be roughly handled and carried to prison. His sufferings 
were only exceeded by those who were led to the stake ; yet 
in patience was his soul preserved. The Bishop of London 
sent him wwd he must either recant or die in prison. To this 
he only smiled and quietly said, " They are mistaken in me. I 
value not their threats ; I will weary out their malice ; my 
prison shall be my grave before I will budge a jot, for I owe 
my conscience to no man." The account of his trial at the Old 
Bailey in 1670, and his defence, is one of the most interesting 
records of events touching the persecution of the Friends. Of 
the results of this trial it has been said, " It established a great 
truth, that unjust laws are powerless when used against an 
upright people." 

From this period William Penn assumes a more prominent 
and useful character. While he suffered he was not unmindful 
of the pangs of others, and his spirit, vexed and grieved, 
yearned for the day of deliverance. His belief was that, in 
common with all Friends, and as it had been handed down to 
them by the simple-hearted Christians of previous ages, man 
should have free and unfettered liberty to worship God as he 
was led to think best. On this understanding he pleaded the 
same toleration to the Roman Catholics, and for it was de- 
nounced a Jesuit in disguise, which had the effect of producing 
a special form of persecution. For a time William Penn again 



WILLIAM PENN. 237 

travelled on the Continent. This gave him an opportunity of 
spreading gospel truths, while he secured partial rest from the 
wrath of his enemies. His intercourse was not confined to the 
poor or middle classes, for frequently his meetings were held 
with the members of many noble families who remembered with 
gratitude his earnest ministry in their behalf. About this time 
Admiral Penn felt his end approaching, when he fully relented 
towards his son, to whom he said, " Son William, if you and 
your friends keep to your plain way of preaching and to your 
plain way of living, you will make an end of the priests to the 
end of the world." 

William Penn married in 1672, and settled at Rickmans- 
worth ; but his spirit was still one of anxiety for the welfare of 
his friends, and he continued to look around for some means by 
which he might aid their escape from bitter thraldom. Sub- 
sequently he removed to Worminghurst, in Sussex, where in 
closer retirement he could further the end in view. In 1675 
two Friends, having some differences relative to a tract of land in 
New Jersey, left the matter to the arbitration of William Penn, 
who finally became trustee and manager to the western part, 
and framed a constitution for it, the result being the formation 
of a colony on entirely Christian principles. The enterprise 
succeeded admirably, and he at once formed other resolutions 
for the assistance of his persecuted brethren. The death of 
Admiral Penn placed his son in the receipt of about £1,500 per 
annum, and there were in addition claims on Government, 
chiefly for money lent, which by the accumulation of interest- 
had increased to upwards of £16,000. William Penn petitioned 
the Privy Council to grant, in lieu of money, by letters patent, 
a tract of land, then unoccupied, adjoining Maryland and New 
Jersey. The scheme was referred to a committee. It was de- 
nounced as Utopian, wild, and impracticable, an encouragement 
to the dissolute and discontented, and dangerous to existing gov- 
ernments ; but after protracted delays the request was granted. 
The new colony was named Pennsylvania by the King in honor 
of Admiral Penn, and as indicative of the wooded nature of the 
country. 



238 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Weaned with the pride, selfishness, and heartless cruelty of 
the Old World, William Penn in the fulness of his Christian 
love and generous mind now turned to the New. His dearest 
hopes were about to be realized. Here he would carry out the 
designs he had so long cherished; here his persecuted and 
oppressed brethren should find a peaceful home and freedom 
of worship; here peace and Christianity should form the prin- 
ciples of government, while the ignorant savage of adjoining 
lands should be taught to regard the settlers as friends, and be 
prepared to receive the glorious truths of the gospel. Although 
the King made Penn a grant of this territory, which was about 
three hundred miles long and one hundred and sixty broad, he 
nevertheless deemed it his duty to purchase it from the Indians 
who roamed over it at will. He further agreed with them to re- 
fer all differences to a conference of twelve persons, — six whites 
and six Indians. This arrangement gave great satisfaction, and 
the savage tribes remained fast friends ever afterwards. 

The noble words in which Penn laid down those broad prin- 
ciples of truth and justice which were to signalize his dealings 
with the red men — words which carried to their simple minds 
such conviction of the white man's honesty of purpose as at once 
secured their confidence and respect — deserve to be inscribed 
in letters of gold. "The Great Spirit," said Penn, "who made 
you and us, who rules the heaven and the earth, and who 
knows the innermost thoughts of man, knows that I and my 
friends have a hearty desire to live in peace and friendship with 
-you, and to serve you to the utmost of our power. Our object 
is not to do injury, but to do good. We arc here met on the 
broad pathway of good faith and good-will, so that no advan- 
tage may be taken on either side, but all shall be openness, 
brotherhood, and love. I would not compare the friendship 
now sought to a chain, since the rain might rust it or a tree fall 
and break it; but the Indians shall be esteemed by us as the 
same flesh and blood with the Christians, and the same as if 
one man's body was to be divided in two parts, and, as such, 
the ground should be occupied as common to both people." 
So " Penn's Treaty," as it is called, has become one of the 






WILLIAM PENN. 239 

important landmarks of American history. Its commemoration 
by West's pencil has given it a place as such beside the " Land- 
ing of the Pilgrims" in the popular regard of the nation; for 
since all Christian people now feel greater pride in the con- 
quests of peace than in those of war, Penn's work grows greater 
with the lapse of years. 

The government of the colony was amply set forth in a code 
of well-devised declarations, and in no respect was it ever as- 
serted that the plan was imperfect or unsuitable. As long as 
peace-loving Christians were connected with the administration 
of the laws and government affairs, no cause for alarm was pres- 
ent; but in this as in all human enterprises traducers were 
not wanting who represented Pennsylvania as in confusion, on 
which the King was prevailed, in 1692, to deprive William 
Penn of the government of it and confer it upon Colonel 
Fletcher, of New York, under whose despotic and military care 
it only remained two years. In 1694 it was restored, to the 
great satisfaction of all concerned. The government of the col- 
ony under William Penn was peace and tranquillity. The oath 
was never administered. The constable's staff was the only 
symbol of authority. Soldiers were neither required nor em- 
ployed, and perfect equality existed among all religious denom- 
inations. The world may take example and proof of what may 
be accomplished by a people bent on a mission of love and 
peace. Penn's treaty with the Indians shows what can be done 
even with a nation of savages, and his whole life is a bright ex- 
ample of what a noble mind and Christian impulse can produce 
even upon the most untutored beings. 

The remainder of Penn's life was spent in great activity, — in 
ministry at home and abroad, and in religious visits to the 
highest personages; in repeated visits to Pennsylvania; in 
pleading the cause of his brethren at the English Court, to 
which he always had access ; in writing religious works and 
suffering in prison. Throughout he possessed indomitable en- 
ergy and perseverance, combined with the love and gentleness 
of a child. Although he suffered the keenest persecution he 
was ever ready to return good for the evil. He suffered for a 



240 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

principle. His life was sacrificed completely for the welfare 
and happiness of others ; his was a heroism little short of mar- 
tyrdom, and to William Penn and his contemporaries we are at 
this age indebted for many of the blessings we enjoy. Among 
his many writings not the least valuable is his " Essay toward 
the Present and Future Peace of Europe," — a code of principles 
which have been variously reproduced of late years, not without 
good effect. 

William Penn's health suddenly failed in 1708, after a tedious 
imprisonment. He retired to Kensington, and subsequently to 
Rushcombe, in Berkshire, where he still occupied his time in 
literary work, his last production being a preface to the writings 
of his friend Joseph Banks, in 171 1, which he dictated as he 
walked, cane in hand, about the room. At length he became 
enfeebled, and in 1718 he peacefully closed his remarkable, 
interesting, honorable, and laborious life, at the age of seventy- 
four, and was interred at Jordans, a quiet hamlet in Bucking- 
hamshire near his former home, and where rested the remains 
of his first wife and members of her family, the Penningtons. 
Around his grave a large concourse, not only of Friends, but 
members of other religious denominations from all parts of 
England, assembled, all anxious to do homage to the virtues of 
a man of whom it may be truly said, " He lived only for others 
and heaven, for the suppression of cruelty and wrong, and for 
the glorification of God." 

The fact that such men as Penn are constantly in the midst of 
their species from age to age is the hope and safety of human- 
ity; for without them the race must degenerate, and lose its 
special claim to superiority in the system of created intelli- 
gence. He was great in his own day, but he has become 
greater in the eyes of posterity. Hence, although no monu- 
mental marble marks his grave, nor sculptured records blazon 
forth his deeds, his name still lives in the hearts and memo- 
ries of thousands; and through him the Indian savage and 
the white man mutually rejoice, hand in hand, in a common 
salvation which shall last when time shall be no more, and 
monuments perish with the dust and decay of worlds. 




SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY. 



SIR SAMUEL ROM ILLY. 24 1 



SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY. 

[Born 1757. Died 181S.] 

AMONG many celebrated and successful advocates who 
have been members of national legislative bodies, but 
very few men have distinguished themselves as great liberal- 
minded politicians, brilliant senatorial debaters, and wise and 
energetic reformers. Of those who have achieved this superior 
reputation, Sir Samuel Romilly is a remarkable example ; for 
not only was he the first advocate and the most profound law- 
yer of his age, but he was also a judicious and eminently 
practical politician and a most powerful parliamentary speaker. 
From the great and commanding talents, deep learning, and 
moral goodness he possessed, and the wise use he made of 
these qualities for the public good, and from which important 
results have followed, he has earned the admiration and esteem 
of all intelligent persons as an eminent public benefactor. 

This great and good man, who was born in London in 1757, 
was the son of a jeweller who carried on business there. His 
early education appears to have been very defective ; but by 
much assiduous and systematic study after he left school at 
fourteen years of age, he became a well-educated youth. In 
his sixteenth year he was articled to one of the six clerks in 
Chancery, with the view to the purchase of a seat in their office 
at the end of his articleship. His disinclination, however, to 
inconvenience his father to make this purchase induced him to 
renounce entirely his prospects of this appointment at the Six 
Clerks' Office and to study for the bar. Accordingly, on serv- 
ing his articleship and completing his twenty-first year, he 
became a member of Gray's Inn and a pupil of an able equity 
draughtsman, and began to study law with great energy. He 
also much improved his mind by useful general reading, by 

16 



242 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

translating the Latin historians and orators, by sometimes 
writing political essays for the newspapers, and in occasionally 
attending the Houses of Parliament to exercise his powers of 
abstraction, argument, and expression in writing imaginary 
replies to the debates which he had heard there. The severe 
mental labor which he underwent during his studentship for 
the bar proved so injurious to his health that he was compelled 
to relinquish his studies for a time, and to go to the Continent 
to recover his strength. At Geneva and at Paris he became 
acquainted with several eminent men, including Dumont, 
D'Alembert, and Diderot, who produced a very marked effect 
upon his character and opinions. 

Romilly was called to the bar in 1783. He commenced his 
practice with drawing Chancery pleadings, an employment 
which gradually increased; but, like many other eminent bar- 
risters, he was compelled to wait for some years before he had 
occasion to speak in court. Early in the following year he 
joined the Midland Circuit, which he continued to frequent 
until the extent of his practice in the Court of Chancery 
obliged him to confine himself to London, he being at that 
time, which was about the end of the last century, leader of his 
circuit. A few months afterwards he was made a king's coun- 
sel; and this honor caused his equity practice to increase so 
rapidly that in five years subsequently he had more briefs in 
the Chancery Court than any other barrister who attended 
it. The Bishop of Durham at this period conferred upon him 
the Chancellorship of the County Palatine of Durham, which 
he held for several years. He was also appointed Solicitor- 
General, and knighted in 1806, on the formation of the Grcn- 
ville Administration, and was brought into Parliament by the 
Government as member for Queenborough. On the trial and 
impeachment of Lord Melville, Sir Samuel Romilly was ap- 
pointed one of the managers for the Commons, and summed 
up the testimony in support of the charge. On the dissolution 
of the Whig Administration in 1807 he went out of office. 

But this eminent lawyer will probably best be appreciated 
by the vast majority of the public as a great politician, and the 



SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY. 243 

reforms he advocated in and out of Parliament, and especially 
as regards the repeal and amendment of the criminal laws. 
For a long time before he left the Midland Circuit Romilly was 
much esteemed for his political knowledge and wisdom ; and 
the publication of two pamphlets by him — one called " A 
Fragment on the Constitutional Power and Duties of Juries," 
and the other " Observations on a late Publication entitled 
' Thoughts on Executive Justice ' " — very materially enhanced 
his reputation as one likely to become a wise and judicious 
criminal-law reformer. He was three times offered a seat in 
Parliament before he was appointed Solicitor-General, namely, 
twice by Lord Lansdowne, shortly after he was called to the 
bar, and once in 1805 by the Prince of Wales (afterward 
George IV.). All these offers, however, Romilly declined, from 
a feeling of independence. After the Whig party was over- 
thrown in 1807, under whom he was Solicitor-General, he was 
returned to the House of Commons for Horsham in the inter- 
ests of the Duke of Norfolk ; and after also representing Ware- 
ham and Arundel, he was ultimately returned for Westminster 
in 1818. 

As to the important legal measures of reform which Sir 
Samuel Romilly brought before the notice of Parliament, the 
first was a bill for the amendment of the bankruptcy laws, 
which passed both Houses, and effected important improve- 
ments in such. He then introduced a bill to make real prop- 
erty assets in all cases for the payment of simple contract 
debts. This, however, was rejected by a considerable majority. 
But a bill based upon a more limited application of the same 
principle, by limiting it to the freehold property of traders, 
was proposed by him in the next parliamentary session, and 
became law. 

At the time Sir Samuel Romilly entered Parliament there was 
probably no nation in the world in which so many and so great 
a variety of human actions were punishable with death as in 
England. No less than three hundred crimes, of various de- 
grees of moral guilt, were then declared capital. The existence 
of such sanguinary laws was not only terribly cruel and unjust, 



244 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

but, as they rendered the administration of criminal justice 
very uncertain, its efficiency was much impaired and its utility 
greatly diminished. Having devoted much of his attention to 
the theory and practice of penal economy generally, and to 
the English criminal laws in particular, and being possessed of 
enlarged and philosophical views respecting the welfare of the 
people, and a benevolent disposition to advance their true 
interests as far as he was able, this great and good man re- 
solved to attempt to improve these iniquitous laws as far as he 
consistently could; and no individual in his time was so compe- 
tent to advocate practical legislative measures to attain this 
philanthropic object. It was Romilly's urgent wish to advocate 
the repeal of all the statutes at once which punished with death 
mere thefts unattended with any violence or other circum- 
stances of aggravation ; but as he thought there was little 
probability of a bill passing in Parliament for so great a reform, 
he determined to propose in detail the repeal of particular 
laws by which punishments of disproportionate severity were 
declared to be inflicted, and thus to gradually expunge the 
whole from the statutes. Accordingly he presented a bill in 
1808 to repeal the statute 8 Eliz. c. 4, by which the penalty of 
death was enacted for privately stealing from the person of 
another ; and this measure was passed, after some objection and 
debate, in the House of Commons. In 18 10 three bills were 
introduced by him for the repeal of certain statutes making the 
punishment capital for stealing privately in a shop to the value 
of five shillings, and of stealing to the amount of forty shil- 
lings in dwelling-houses or in vessels in navigable rivers. His 
speeches on these proposed reforms were supported by a pub- 
lication he issued, entitled " Observations on the Criminal Law 
as it relates to Capital Punishments and on the Mode in which 
it is administered." The first of these bills passed the Com- 
mons, but was lost in the House of Lords, and the other two 
were rejected. In the subsequent year the two latter bills were 
again brought forward, as well as a further one to abolish the 
extreme penalty of the law for stealing in bleaching grounds. 
The four bills were passed in the Lower House, but only the 



SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY. 245 

last-mentioned one received the royal assent. The Act of 
Parliament under which persons were directed to be hanged 
for privately stealing in a shop to the value of five shillings 
was, according to Sir Samuel Romilly, " the most severe and 
sanguinary on our statute book, and not only inconsistent with 
the spirit of the times in which we lived, but repugnant to the 
law of nature, which had no severer punishment to inflict for 
the most atrocious of crimes. ... In the year 1785 no less 
than ninety-seven persons were executed for this offence in 
London alone, and the dreadful spectacle exhibited of twenty 
suffering at the same time." The reasons advanced against the 
aforesaid criminal-law reforms were extremely ridiculous, and 
almost incredible for such an enlightened age. The most 
serious opposition to them, however, emanated from Lord 
Chancellor Eldon and Lord Ellenborough, Chief Justice of 
England, as they were both of opinion that the criminal code 
could not be too severe. Indeed, the latter nobleman, accord- 
ing to Lord Campbell, " was as much shocked by a proposal 
to repeal the punishment of death for stealing to the value of 
five shillings in a shop as if it had been to abrogate the Ten 
Commandments." Other peers dreaded the abolition of this 
odious law, as its repeal would, as they thought, ruin half the 
shopkeepers in London. 

Now, although the more important measures of criminal-law 
amendment advocated by Romilly did not become law in his 
time, he was so convinced of the justice of their principles 
that he endeavored to cause them to form part of the statute 
book in each succeeding session of Parliament until his death. 

This eminent man also took an active part in discussing all 
the more important political questions which were introduced 
in the House of Commons while he was a member of it, with 
great credit to himself and the party to which he belonged. 
The death of his wife in October, 18 18, to whom he was very 
much attached, so preyed upon his mind that he put an end to 
his life in the following month, in his sixty-second year, and 
his death was considered a great national loss. 

His second son, the late Lord Romilly, who was an eminent 



246 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Equity judge, graduated at Trinity College, Cambridge, and 
was called to the bar in 1827. He was made Solicitor-General 
in 1848, Attorney-General in 1850, Master of the Rolls in 185 1 , 
and elevated to the peerage as Baron Romilly in 1866. He 
resigned the Mastership of the Rolls in 1873, and died at the 
end of the subsequent year. 

The superior abilities of Sir Samuel Romilly were such as 
were well suited to promote the philanthropic views he advo- 
cated. He possessed the combined powers of lofty eloquence 
and critical argument, and his oratory was distinguished not 
only by precision and great force of reasoning, but by much 
keenness of satire and dramatic expression. His parlia- 
mentary independence was never injured in the slightest de- 
gree; and while the remarkakle integrity and excellence of 
his character gained him the respect of all parties, his tran- 
scendent abilities were admired by friends and enemies alike. 
" Few persons," said Lord Brougham, " have ever attained 
celebrity of name and exalted station, in any country or in 
any age, with such unsullied purity of character as this equally 
eminent and excellent person;" and Sir James Mackintosh 
spoke of him as one whom he considered " as among the 
wisest and most virtuous men of the present age." As to his 
private virtues and habits, these were highly estimable, and 
considerably added to the lustre of his public reputation. The 
amiability of his character and the modesty of his manner 
rendered his society very attractive. In short, his moral con- 
duct was so praiseworthy and superior, that it will always be 
considered by right-minded persons an excellent model for 
imitation. 




SAMUEL WHITBREAD. 



SAMUEL WHITBREAD. 247 



SAMUEL WHITBREAD. 

[Born 175S. Died 1815.] 

HPHE newspapers of to-day and the present generation love 
-*• to call a living statesman the tribune of the people ; and 
this proud title can with equal right be given to Samuel Whit- 
bread, who was a prominent figure in English parliamentary 
history during a portion of the so-called Georgian era. 

Samuel Whitbread, son of a brewer, and afterwards the same 
himself, was born in 1758. He was educated at Eton, matric- 
ulated at Christchurch, Oxford, but finally went to St. John's, 
Cambridge. He left college in 1785, after which he was sent on 
the Continent for a time in charge of a tutor. Soon after his 
return in 1788 he married a daughter of Sir Charles Grey, after- 
wards Earl Grey, and father of the celebrated Premier of that 
name. 

Two years later, in 1790, he commenced public life by offer- 
ing himself as a candidate for the representation of Bedford, and 
after a keen contest was elected by a majority of twenty-seven. 

He took his seat below the gangway, and throughout his life 
he claimed for himself an independence of action irrespective of 
the ties of party, pledging himself to no particular course of 
action save what conscience prompted, humanity appealed for, 
and right demanded. 

The pauper, whose poverty was looked upon as a crime, 
cheerfully bore his heavy burden; the black, whose body 
showed the marks of cruel wrong, went about his heavy task 
with an almost lightsome heart; the imprisoned editor, whose 
only fault had been to maintain the justice of a cause right in 
his eyes though unpopular with the Government, sat contented 
in his prison cell; the subject who for religion's sake was 
denied the same privileges as his fellow-countrymen viewed the 



248 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

future with complacency: for one voice that rose above the din 
of party cry fearlessly and eloquently urged humanity for white 
and black, demanded the freedom of the press not as a priv- 
ilege but as a right, and proclaimed that the Roman Catholics 
were as true to King and country as their Protestant brethren, 
and therefore entitled to equal rights and liberties ; and that 
voice was Samuel Whitbread's. The poor-laws at the time 
were a disgrace to even the then low state of civilization. In- 
stead of being used they were abused,. and instead of being a 
means of relief they were an engine of pettifogging tyranny. 
Samuel Whitbread brought in a bill to alleviate the distress of 
those who had to seek relief; but his proposed reform was in 
advance of the age, though in 1812 he had the satisfaction of 
seeing a measure passed which, if not exactly similar to his 
own, contained many of the same provisions, and might almost 
be said to have been his work. 

The mighty exertions and unflagging zeal of Wilberforce have 
caused his name alone to be identified with the abolition of the 
slave trade ; but nevertheless a share of the honor is due to 
Samuel Whitbread, who fiercely denounced this legal traffic in 
human flesh and blood, and who as fiercely denied, when it was 
proposed to compensate those engaged in it, that any vested 
interest could be claimed by them, who morally if not legally 
had been wrongdoers from the very beginning. 

John Wilkes, the sturdy editor of the " North Briton," was 
imprisoned for sedition; but Samuel Whitbread, though avow- 
ing that he did not share in the demagogue's opinions, de- 
manded his instantaneous release, — and obtained it too, — 
claiming that freedom of speech was the birthright of every 
Englishman, nay, more, was an heirloom for which their fore- 
fathers had wasted their estates, and had not only. shed their 
own blood, but had even not hesitated to dethrone their liege 
lord as well. 

The Roman Catholics at this time were denied the privilege 
of sitting in Parliament, and had to submit to other disabilities . 
enforced by various statutes directed against them ; but Samuel 
Whitbread, though himself a Protestant above suspicion, in- 



SAMUEL WHITBREAD. 249 

sisted upon the repeal of these enactments, declaring that the 
Roman Catholics had proved themselves to be Englishmen first 
and Roman Catholics afterwards ; and when a member of the 
Ministry accused Daniel O'Connell of trying to excite the Cath- 
olics against the Protestants, even went so far as to say that this 
w r as not to be wondered at, seeing that the refusal of the Minis- 
try to grant Catholic emancipation could only tend to stir up 
the Protestants against the Catholics. 

In foreign politics he was in favor of what has since been 
designated as a policy of " masterly inactivity." He w r as of 
opinion that it was England's duty to keep aloof from the 
struggle then being fiercely waged by France against the rest 
of Europe ; but a greater man, or at least a greater statesman, 
than he — perhaps the greatest statesman ever produced by Eng- 
land — enjoyed the confidence of the country ; for William Pitt 
the younger, ever affectionately known as "Billy" Pitt, was in 
the zenith of his pov/er. Other great men, such as Fox, Burke, 
Sheridan, or Whitbread, might be allowed to furl a sail or 
tighten a rope ; but Pitt, and Pitt alone, was capable of steering 
the national ship ; and so war was declared against France, or, 
more correctly speaking, against Napoleon. Historians have 
generally pronounced in favor of the necessity of the wars waged 
for national security ; but it must always be remembered that 
those who opposed their declaration at least did good service by 
ventilating the rights or wrongs of that now famous and historical 
struggle. 

If, however, Whitbread opposed the war with France, he 
gave, when once it was declared, an active support to it; for 
not only did he raise at his own expense a body of yeomanry, 
but he even took the command in person. 

When Lord Melville, the treasurer of the navy, was im- 
peached for the misappropriation of a large sum of public 
money, Whitbread was deputed by the opposition to appear 
against the alleged offender ; for it was felt that the office of 
prosecutor had best be held by a man whose whole life had 
been so blameless and thoroughly honest. Lord Melville, 
however, was finally acquitted by the Lords, partly, if not 



250 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

altogether, owing to the influence of, and the respect felt for, 
William Pitt, whose own honesty and integrity were almost 
proverbial; but the moderate yet firm tone of Whitbread 
gained universal approbation from friend and foe alike, and all 
felt that a sense of duty and a zeal for the nation's welfare had 
alone tempted him to undertake such a thankless and ungrate- 
ful task. 

As a philanthropist and a patron of arts he was also dis- 
tinguished ; for though no particular charity or institution is 
identified with his name, he freely gave large sums of money 
towards worthy objects, taking good care never to advertise his 
generosity, but, on the other hand, blushing to find it fame. 
When the finances of Drury Lane Theatre were in such a 
confused and low state that the closing of the house seemed 
inevitable, he voluntarily offered to put them in order, and in 
addition subscribed a handsome sum. 

This self-imposed task cost him his life. He had become 
exceedingly stout, and on this account was liable to fits of 
dizziness caused by a rush of blood to the head. The doctors 
prescribed absolute quiet and rest; but he refused to obey their 
commands, saying that he had undertaken the task and there- 
fore he would complete it. His end was indeed of a tragic and 
awful nature. On the 6th of July, 1815, he committed suicide 
after dinner, in a fit of temporary insanity, — the direct result 
of overwork. 

By a strange coincidence his last vote, cast in the House but 
two days before, was in favor of a vote of thanks being given 
to the Duke of Wellington ; for though, as before stated, he 
never approved of the war, he nevertheless considered that, 
since the country had decreed that it should be waged, the 
country's thanks were most certainly due to the hero of a 
score of campaigns and the victor of Waterloo. 

Little has been said about Samuel Whitbread's private life ; 
but as a husband and a father or as a statesman and a bene- 
factor he is equally entitled to our admiration. He lived on 
the greatest terms of affection and happiness with his wife, and 
he almost lived again in his children. He was not only their 



SAMUEL WHITBREAD. 25 1 

father, but a friend as well, an interested listener to their joys 
and troubles, a kind of stern judge of their wrong-doings, 
swift to punish, but equally swift to forgive. Altogether he 
had five children, three sons and two daughters, all of whom, 
with the exception of one son who died in infancy, survived 
to grieve his loss. 

As an orator, it is said his speeches were luminous rather 
than brilliant, characterized by sound sense rather than by 
daring flights of fancy; but he lived in an age when there 
were more men gifted with the highest quality of eloquence 
than perhaps there have been before or since. It was indeed 
an age of giants. There were Pitt and Fox, Burke, the Eng- 
lish Cicero, Sheridan, unequalled as a wit and almost unrivalled 
as a debater, besides many more who very nearly attained as 
high a standard; and at that time to have been considered 
even a second-rate orator was saying a good deal. 

Too conscientious to be a partisan, too ready to give an ear 
to the oppressed whoever they might be. Samuel Whitbread 
never took office, and on this account his name is certainly less 
familiar than some who in reality achieved far less; but the 
most deserving are often forgotten by posterity, or at any rate 
by the undiscriminating and non-inquiring many. His claims 
on the present generation may not be acknowledged, but they 
were granted in full by the past. It is said that the first ques- 
tion a stranger put on entering the House was, "Which is Mr. 
Whitbread ?" so great was the popular admiration for him. 
No man's death was ever more sincerely mourned, and at his 
grave the tears of friend and foe mingled together. A writer 
chronicling his death describes his character in a few words, 
which, however, speak volumes. He says — and few will dis- 
agree with him — "that whether as a private individual or a 
public character Samuel Whitbread appears to have been entitled 
to the applause and gratitude of his country." 



252 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. 

[Born Aug. 24, 1759. Died July 29, 1S33.] 

" (^^ O on in the name of God, and in the power of His might, 
V-* till even American slavery, the vilest that ever saw the 
sun, shall vanish away." The words were at once a prophecy 
and a prayer. His disciples gathered round him, 'his trembling 
fingers scarcely able to hold the pen, the founder of a powerful 
sect addressed to Wilberforce this pathetic and solemn adjura- 
tion. It is possible that Death, looking over the old man's 
shoulder, saw how good was what he wrote, and, anxious that 
the last utterance of a mighty spirit should be eloquent, gently 
loosened the single thread that held together soul and bod)". 
For the legend — a legend few but must love to credit — de- 
scribes this as the last letter John Wesley penned. 

It was in the very fiercest of the conflict that the apostle of 
Methodism died. Years had already elapsed since the com- 
mencement of the struggle, and many forms were now coffin- 
dust that had been seen in Westminster Hall on the day when, in 
the presence of the Lord Chief Justice of England, and with the 
applause of three nations welcoming it, a verdict was delivered 
declaring, as with the inspiriting voice of a trumpet, that no 
breath of slavery should be suffered to infect English air, but 
that the whole island should be a sanctuary forever consecrated 
to Liberty, which, if any bondsman succeeded in reaching, he 
instantly became free ! Then were first proclaimed the prin- 
ciples that, spreading, — as of old the gospel to which they owe 
their birth had spread, — have proved more powerful than the 
power of princes, more persuasive than the temptations of 
wealth, that have penetrated to the swamps of Louisiana and 
the forests of Hayti, whose army of martyrs includes such men 
as Lincoln and Livingstone, and whose conquerors are dia- 




n^lberfo^ 




WILLIAM WILBERFORCE. 



WILLIAM VVILBERFORCE. 253 

denied with a glory that shall not fade away. And never in the 
press and thick of the battle did there strive a heartier cham- 
pion than Wilberforce. He was the knight upon whom Free- 
dom could rely to be faithful even unto death. Others might 
covet the admiration of the multitude or the applause of sen- 
ates; he sought only to take from Britain the reproach that, 
though hers was a free soil, she trafficked in slaves ! 

No man was ever a truer patriot. His love of country was 
not indeed such as might have influenced an Athenian or a 
Roman. It was a nobler feeling than that which caused Decius 
to veil his head and seek death in the thickest of the battle, or 
Scaevola to give his right hand to the Tuscan fire. Such a 
patriot as Wilberforce did not covet for England that in her 
hand should be the sceptre of the world, — that she should go 
forth as Death on the Pale Horse, " conquering and to con- 
quer." He desired above all things for his country that her 
sword should strike only on the side of Right, that her crown 
should be the crown of Righteousness, and her place in the van 
of Truth. He could not endure to see her do wrong ; a stain 
on the national honor chafed him as though it soiled his own. 
And beholding, even while yet a boy, how miserably the 
leprosy of slavery had spotted that beloved mother-land, he 
resolved, God aiding, that his life should be devoted to freeing 
her of her shame. 

Two scenes in the life of this great man are invested with a 
peculiar grandeur. Let us draw back the curtain of the past 
and regard them for a moment. 

The first was the night of May 13, 1789. In the old House 
of Commons, that building where Pitt shone chief in oratory and 
Fox in debate, Wilberforce launched the first thunders of his elo- 
quence against the slave-trade. It was his pledge to give up 
the world and follow Christ. Young, wealthy, the representa- 
tive of the largest shire in England, there seemed scarce a pin- 
nacle, even among the giddiest summits of political ambition, to 
which he might not aspire to climb. But his heart was set on 
nobler things. He knew that, while he took his ease in Eng- 
land, voices across the Atlantic would be crying out for the 



254 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Death that should come as a deliverer from intolerable pain. 
Day and night there was present to his mind's vision the hor- 
rible hold of the slave-ship, with its cargo of suffocating captives 
torn from all humanity holds dear. His ears were filled with 
such cries as that which broke from the mother of Josiah Hen- 
son, when the purchaser of her last child tore it from her grasp 
and kicked her away, — "Oh, Lord Jesus, how long? how 
long?" And so on that May evening YVilberforce rose, and 
suffered the indignation of his heart to burst forth in burning 
words. 

After almost twenty years came the triumph. On the night 
of Feb. 23, 1807, the Abolition Bill was removed to the 
Lords by a majority of 283 to 16. Slander, insult, the bitter- 
ness of hope deferred, the coldness or treachery of friends, the 
persistent malice of enemies, — all these had the now veteran 
champion encountered, and over them all had he at length pre- 
vailed. Sir Samuel Romilly took occasion to contrast the work 
of YVilberforce with that of Bonaparte. The master of armies 
would lie that night in the Tuileries, and even in his dreams see 
Europe at his feet. The Apostle of Freedom would seek a less 
stately roof and a humbler pillow ; but over his pillow would 
hover the glorious certainty that everywhere throughout that 
empire on which the sun does not set, the slave, by his and his 
colleagues' efforts, was at length FREE ! As the words left the 
speaker's lips the House rose almost to a man, and, every eye 
directed towards Wilberforce, burst into a thunder of applause. 

Twenty-six years later the Liberator died. He was laid near 
the north door of the Abbey, — a resting-place appropriated to 
statesmen. His neighbors in death are many and famous. 
There Pitt and Fox, the long quarrel of their lives forever com- 
posed, lie side by side. A shapely figure of marble marks the 
grave that received the stilled brain and broken heart of George 
Canning. Ireland has given her Grattan, — his very name is 
an epitaph; Scotland, the Murray who, as Chief Justice, pro- 
nounced slavery a curse alien and abhorrent to the soil of Britain. 
They lie forever in state, these dead, — having in life done dutiful 
service to their country. 




WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. 



WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. 255 

Very solemn is it to pass from the stir outside into the rever- 
ent and majestic stillness that keeps watch over the relics of 
these great citizens. Dim rays of violet and crimson, the 
changed shadows of the sunbeams without, steal through the 
painted window at the end of the transept, and fall in shifting 
radiance athwart the marble imagery that lends its adornment 
to the mansions of the dead. To stand by the tomb of Wilber- 
force in the mist of evening, when few people are present, is as 
though one rested at the very gate of peace. Or, if the time be 
that of public worship, and the mighty voice of the organ is 
lifted, the strains will seem an anthem rejoicing over what the 
DEAD MAN HAD DONE IN THE SERVICE OF HIS LORD. 

Wilberforce left to his descendants, not the lustre of a title, 
but the more splendid inheritance of his genius and his virtues. 
Oxford reveres his son as among the best and most eloquent of 
her bishops ; and his grandson, the Canon of Winchester, has, 
by numerous good works, approved himself worthy to bear the 
name of the Liberator, who found thousands slaves and left 
them free. " In the sign of the Cross " were the triumphs of 
that ancestor achieved, — the sign before which, even in Amer- 
ica, the Dagon of slavery has now fallen prostrate, — the sign 
that still shines foremost wherever civilization is to be advanced, 
freedom striven for, or souls gained to God. 



WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. 

[Born 1804. Died 1879.] 

'TPHE benefactors of the world throughout all ages have had 
■*- to struggle against indifference, conservatism, and self- 
interest. A purer vision has revealed to them truths which at 
present are unseen by others. A clearer insight into things, a 
keener sympathy, it may be, with sorrow and suffering, has 
opened to them depths to which no other eye had pierced. 



256 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

The lofty soul is at once moved with compassion, and its whole 
being is stirred into action. The evil which has thus been 
opened up to this great heart is of man's doing and can be 
removed. And he pleads with men. He places higher 
motives before them and loftier aims. He points out to them 
objects of duty, and urges them forward to their attainment. 
With what result? To some he is an enthusiast who is asking 
for the impossible; to some he is a demagogue — an obstruc- 
tionist, perhaps — who wishes to overthrow the grand institu- 
tions of ages; while to others — the makers of silver shrines, 
and so on — he is a troublesome agitator, who wishes to bring 
their country to ruin and desolation. 

But this reception only increases his earnestness. It acts 
upon his spirit as a tonic, and he works on. Presently, one by 
one, men begin to be convinced, and gradually they rally round 
him, each one influencing his own circle, till, as time rolls on, 
the inspirations of one man have worked themselves into the 
minds of myriads, till the thing which was once impossible has 
at length come to pass ; and this man — the enthusiast, the 
obstructionist, the demagogue, the despised of yesterday — is 
the loved and honored of to-day. It is often so. It was so 
with the subject of this sketch. 

William Lloyd Garrison was born at Newburyport, Massa- 
chusetts, in the year 1804; and when seven years of age, in 
order to permit of his mother following the occupation of a 
sick-nurse, he was placed under the care of Ezekiel Bartlett, 
a rail-splitter by trade, and a deacon of the Newburyport Bap- 
tist Church. At the early age of eleven years his mother 
found it desirable that her son should begin work, and he was 
successively placed with a shoemaker and a cabinet-maker; 
but, neither of these occupations being at all to his mind, he 
was permitted to return to his former home till something more 
suitable should be found for him, assisting, in the meantime, 
the good old deacon in his trade of rail-splitting. At length, 
when thirteen years of age, it was discovered that an appren- 
tice was wanted at the office of the " Newburyport Herald; " 
and thereupon, everything seeming favorable, he was duly 



WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. 257 

articled to be taught the art and mystery of letterpress print- 
ing. His new occupation delighted him. Nothing in the world 
could have been better adapted to his taste. The mechanical 
part of the business was particularly attractive, and the gen- 
eral knowledge to be attained in the work of type-setting 
helped considerably to add to his happiness. His education 
hitherto had been only of the most elementary kind, and he 
had often wished for a wider range of books than were to be 
obtained at the deacon's. He was now able in great measure 
to gratify his thirst for knowledge, and sought every oppor- 
tunity to improve his mind and to increase his general stock 
of information, assisting, among other things, in the forma- 
tion of a debating society for the apprentices and youth of the 
neighborhood. 

At the age of sixteen he commenced his literary career by 
contributing an anonymous article to the newspaper on which 
he was employed. The article was on a subject of local in- 
terest, was humorously written, and was signed " An Old 
Bachelor." Its favorable reception induced him to repeat the 
experiment ; and from that time scarcely a week passed without 
a contribution either in poetry or prose from the unknown con- 
tributor " A. O. B." Garrison was over nineteen years of age 
when at length the authorship of the articles was discovered, 
and he was soon afterwards promoted to the post of assist- 
ant editor, the entire management of the printing-office being 
placed under his care. A series of articles on national affairs 
which he now contributed to the paper attracted considerable 
attention beyond the usual limits of its circulation, and were 
popularly attributed to one of the most distinguished statesmen 
of America. 

During this time the young and rising apprentice had been 
in constant correspondence with his mother; and her letters, 
filled to overflowing with all the strong and loving sentiment of 
the noblest womanhood, inspired him to constant and heroic 
effort in his authorship and his daily work. Shortly before 
the termination of his apprenticeship she was seized with an 
illness which was considered likely to prove fatal; and young 

17 



258 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Garrison made a journey of six hundred miles to see her, 
cheering and reviving her for a time, but only for a time ; and 
a few weeks after his return she passed peacefully away. 

In December, 1825, soon after the term of his apprentice- 
ship had expired, William Lloyd Garrison left the service of 
Mr. Allen, and started the " Free Press." But the undertaking 
proved a failure; for although he did most of the mechanical 
work connected with it himself, setting up his editorials without 
even committing them to paper, he found his capital insuffi- 
cient to continue the venture, and after a brief existence of six 
months the paper ceased to appear, and Garrison found him- 
self in debt. 

In order to retrieve his fortune he left Newburyport for 
Boston, and there engaged himself as a compositor on the 
" National Philanthropist," the first paper in the world which 
advocated the cause of total abstinence ; and there, as a matter 
of principle, he joined the teetotal cause. It was not long 
before he received the appointment of editor of the paper; 
and it was while fulfilling this position that his attention became 
attracted to a subject which was destined to affect the whole 
course of his life, which was to hold him in its thraldom and 
nerve him to brave a world of foes, in order that he might free 
his fellow-countrymen from the inhuman bondage of slavery. 

Benjamin Lundy, a member of the Society of Friends, was 
the first man in the United States to devote his life to the aboli- 
tion of negro slavery. A newspaper, the " Genius of Univer- 
sal Emancipation," published by him at Baltimore, came into 
the hands of Garrison, and awakened in him a keen sense of 
the degradation connected with this debasing traffic both to the 
slave and to the slave-owner, and he determined to consecrate 
his life henceforth to deliver the negro from the galling bonds 
of slavery. 

His denunciations of slaveholding soon attracted general 
attention, and one of the first results was an offer from Benja- 
min Lundy himself to join him as joint editor of the " Genius 
of Universal Emancipation," which Garrison accepted. 

Lundy had hitherto advocated " gradual emancipation ; " but 



WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. 259 

under the joint editorship the first number raised the standard 
of " immediateism," and, as might naturally be expected, a 
firmer tone pervaded the articles. The slave-owners now be- 
gan to be alarmed. For the first time their favored institution 
seemed in imminent danger. Those who had hitherto favored 
Lundy's advocacy now drew back, and even in the Northern 
States the supporters of the paper fell off on all hands. The 
upholders of slavery determined to make an effort to crush the 
paper, and an opportunity soon presented itself. A merchant 
of Newburyport, whom Garrison had known in his youth, had 
laid himself open to very severe strictures in reference to the 
importation of slaves, and Garrison declared that he was de- 
serving of imprisonment for life for his illegal practices. For 
this Garrison was indicted for libel, and, the judge and jury all 
being of pro-slavery principles, he was adjudged guilty, and a 
fine was imposed which he was unable to pay. He was there- 
upon incarcerated in Baltimore prison, occupying a cell which 
had recently been vacated by a prisoner who had paid the 
extreme penalty of the law, and was only released on the inter- 
vention of Mr. Arthur Tappan, of New York, who paid the 
fine. 

While in prison Garrison wrote a graphic account of his 
mock trial, which was afterwards published and circulated 
throughout the length and breadth of the United States, and 
which did more in a couple of months to stir up an anti-slavery 
feeling than could otherwise have been accomplished in as 
many years. He also employed many hours in writing on the 
walls of his cell denunciations against slavery, and after the 
manner of Raleigh, when immured in the Tower, inscribing 
thereon words of comfort and consolation to any future occu- 
pant who might be thus wrongfully incarcerated. One of these 
noble effusions was as follows : — 

" Prisoner ! within these massive walls close pent, 
Guiltless of horrid crime or trivial wrong, 
Bear nobly up against thy punishment, 
And in thy innocence be great and strong ! 
Perchance thy fault was love to all mankind, 



260 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Thou didst oppose some vile, oppressive law, 
Or strive all human fetters to unbind, 
Or wouldst not bear the implements of war. 
What then ! dost thou so soon repent the deed ? 
A martyr's crown is richer than a king's ! 
Think it an honor with thy Lord to bleed, 
And glory midst the intensest sufferings ! 
Though beaten, imprisoned, put to open shame, 
Time shall embalm and glorify thy name." 

On his release from prison Garrison at once discovered that 
it would be quite impossible to carry on his paper under the 
altered circumstances. No one dared to be known as a sup- 
porter of it, and its subscribers dropped off on all hands. A 
building for the delivery of a course of lectures could not be 
obtained at any price. The religious bodies were no more 
favorable to his views than were others. So he left Benjamin 
Lundy and other friends at Baltimore, and went to Boston. But 
the same state of things prevailed at Boston. No one dared to 
support or countenance him in his noble and philanthropic 
crusade, and not a newspaper would assist him in propagating 
his views. At length, after much difficulty, the use of a hall 
was offered him, in which he delivered a course of lectures, 
proclaiming " liberty to the captive, and the opening of the 
prison doors' to them that were bound." 

In Boston Garrison met with an old acquaintance in the per- 
son of Isaac Knapp, a printer, and with his assistance he deter- 
mined to start a newspaper of his own. The first number of 
the " Liberator " was published on the first day of January, 
I S3 1. It was a small, unpretentious-looking sheet, but it gave 
forth no uncertain sound. 

" I am aware," said Garrison in this first issue, " that many 
object to the severity of my language; but is there not cause 
for such severity? I will be as harsh as truth and as uncom- 
promising as justice. I am in earnest. I will not equivocate, 
I will not excuse, I will not retract a single inch, and / will 
be heard" The first numbers were printed for him and paid 
for by his own and his friend Knapp's labor as compositors ; 
but after a short time they were enabled to purchase some 



WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. 26 1 

second-hand type and an old press, which they set up in a 
garret in the old [Merchants' Hall. This one dingy room, 
which has been immortalized by James Russell Lowell, served 
as a printing-office, living-room, and bedroom for Garrison, his 
friend Knapp, and a small negro boy. 

'• In a small chamber, friendless and unseen, 
Toiled o'er his types a poor unlearned young man. 
The place was dark, unfurnitured, and mean, 
Yet there the freedom of a race began." 

So limited were the means of Garrison in the early days of 
this noble enterprise, that the diet of himself and his assistants 
was confined principally to bread and water, with now and then 
the luxury of a little milk. 

The excitement and consternation caused by this little print, 
throughout the Southern States especially, was immense. 
Threats of the most deadly character and insults of every kind 
poured in upon Garrison by almost every post; and the Legis- 
lative Assembly of the State of Georgia was so lost to every 
sense of honor and humanity that it offered a reward of five 
thousand dollars for his head. Nothing, indeed, more clearly 
shows the brutalizing effect of slavery, and the necessity for its 
extinction, than the lawlessness and inhumanity which marked 
the efforts of those who opposed its fall. 

Some time before this a society calling itself the American 
Colonization Society had come into existence, whose avowed 
object was to put an end to the foreign slave trade and of evan- 
gelizing Africa, but whose real purpose Garrison soon dis- 
covered to be the deportation of the free colored people, who 
were ahfays a source of danger and annoyance in their midst. 
Garrison soon opened the eyes of the philanthropists of 
America to the self-seeking designs of this society; and, it 
having sent an emissary to England for the furtherance of its 
object there, he determined to follow and unmask the villanous 
imposture to the people of that country. He arrived in Eng- 
land in May, 1833 ; and having explained his mission in several 
public meetings and before some of the greatest English states- 
men and philanthropists of that day, he was enabled to return 



262 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

to his own country in possession of a strong and emphatic 
protest against the aims of the society, signed by Fowell Bux- 
ton, Wilberforce, Macaulay, and others. 1 

On his return to the United States Garrison found that the 
news of his success had preceded him ; and at New York, 
where his friends had arranged to hold a meeting at which he 
was to be present, the friends of the slave-owners had issued 
placards announcing that the " infamous Garrison" had arrived 
and would be present at a meeting; and the " fiiends of order" 
— that is, the friends of slavery — were exhorted "to assemble 
and hurry him to the tar-kettle." When the hour of the meet- 
ing arrived the hall was surrounded by a mob of several thou- 
sand excited and infuriated "friends of order," eager to wreak 
their vengeance on a man whom a few years later they were 
just as eager to bless. 

The excitement among the friends of the slave-owners pro- 
duced a corresponding enthusiasm in the ranks of the aboli- 
tionists ; and a grand national convention of the friends of 
emancipation was held at Philadelphia, which resulted in the 
formation of the American Anti-Slavery Society, and a declara- 
tion of its principles, drawn up by Garrison, was published 
far and wide throughout the free States. 2 

In the autumn of 1834 Garrison was joined by George 
Thompson, whose acquaintance he had made while visiting 
England, and whose powerful oratory had impressed him with 
the advantages of such a helper. And if the plain solid state- 
ments of Garrison — for there were no outbursts of oratory in 
Garrison's speeches — could produce such inflammatory results, 
it could only be expected that the withering sarcasms and witty 
shafts of Thompson must add fuel to the flame. It did so ; and 
for many months it was not safe for Thompson to be seen un- 
less well escorted. Meetings were held only with the great- 
est difficulty, and were attended with tremendous risks. One 

1 In reference to this society, ij may be as well to state that, although projected 
by slave-owners and their friends for their own selfish ends, as herein explained, it 
was the means of founding the colony of Liberia. 

- Turn to the article on Harriet B. Stowe for the effects of this convention. 






WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. 263 

morning in September, 1835, a gallows with two ropes sus- 
pended was found erected in front of Garrison's door, one rope 
being intended for him and the other for George Thompson. 

Soon after this there occurred that memorable outrage in 
which William Lloyd Garrison escaped with his life only by a 
miracle. A meeting was to be held in connection with the 
Ladies' Anti-Slavery Society, and George Thompson was ex- 
pected to be present. A mob of upwards of five thousand 
" gentlemen of property and standing " presented themselves 
at the hall. Only thirty ladies were able to gain admittance, 
and some of them only by undergoing the most rude and bru- 
tal treatment from this well-dressed mob. The meeting was 
scarcely opened when the mayor entered in a state of great 
excitement, begging the ladies to adjourn their meeting, as he 
found it impossible to disperse the mob, — a request which was 
at once complied with. Garrison had attended for the purpose 
of escorting his young wife, but with no intention of taking 
any part in the meeting. Thompson was not present; and the 
mob, being disappointed in not finding him, fixed upon Garri- 
son. The cry was raised of " Out with him ! Lynch him ! " A 
room was burst open in which he had taken refuge, and at first it 
seemed that he would have been thrown out of the window ; but 
at the suggestion of one of the mob that he should not be killed 
outright, a rope was fastened round his body, and he was hustled 
out into the street, where he was hurried along towards the tar- 
kettle, which was preparing in a neighboring street. Brickbats 
and stones were thrown at him, and his clothes w r ere gradually 
torn piece by piece from off his body. Suddenly some one in 
the crowd cried out, " Remember he is an American ! He 
shall not be hurt ! " " No," responded several voices ; " he 
shall not be hurt ! " and for a moment or two gentler counsels 
seemed to prevail. But only for a moment. He was again 
pounced upon, his clothes by this time being torn completely 
from off his body, and every moment seemed as though it 
would decide his fate, — all this time his face bearing an ex- 
pression of gentleness and benevolence. He was at length — 
doubtless by the most humane of the mob — conducted to the 



264 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

office of the mayor, where by the kindness of several gentle- 
men he was re-clothed. The mayor, in order to save him from 
further violence, ordered him to be conveyed to prison, where 
on the walls of his cell he inscribed the following words: 
" William Lloyd Garrison was put into this cell on Monday 
afternoon, October 21, 1835, to save him from the violence of 
a respectable mob, who sought to destroy him for preaching the 
abominable and dangerous doctrine that all men are created 
equal, and that all oppression is odious in the sight of God." 

"The truth that we utter," he afterwards wrote, in reviewing 
this transaction, " is impalpable, yet real. It cannot be thrust 
down by brute force, nor pierced with a dagger, nor bribed 
with gold, nor overcome by the application of a coat of tar 
and feathers." 

Garrison had been an early friend of the poet Whittier, and 
had encouraged his first efforts in poetic composition. Whittier 
requited this friendship in his memorable apostrophe to the 
great emancipator, which concludes as follows : — 

" Go on, — the dagger's point may glare 

Amid thy pathway's gloom, — 
The fate which sternly threatens there 

Is glorious martyrdom ! 
Then onward with a martyr's zeal ; 

And wait thy sure reward 
When man to man no more shall kneel, 

And God alone be Lord ! 

For years the advocacy of emancipation was continued 
amidst the greatest obstacles, with now and again scenes of 
.violence only a little less atrocious than those we have re- 
corded, till at length the majority of people in the Northern 
States were found to approve of anti-slavery principles. It was 
then that the slave-owners, finding the Northern States against 
them, began to talk of secession. And when this event at 
length took place, and the Civil War was entered upon, the 
liberation of the slaves seemed to many farther off than ever. 
When at length, on the first day of January, 1863, — that be- 
ing also the thirty-second anniversary of the first issue of the 



WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISOX. 265 

" Liberator," — by the proclamation of President Lincoln, negro 
slavery ceased to exist throughout the United States of Amer- 
ica, no man could have been more amazed at the wonderful 
course events had taken than he whose life had been spent 
in so educating the people as to make such a proclamation 
possible. 

William Lloyd Garrison was intensely a man of peace. He 
had always condemned physical violence, and would never 
allow it to be resorted to on his behalf. He would have left 
nothing undone to have liberated the slaves without it; but the 
slaveholders themselves ruled that such was not to be. 

Soon after the close of the war Garrison made a tour through 
some of the Southern States ; and on more than one occasion 
he had the inexpressible pleasure of addressing large audiences 
from the auction block, never more to be desecrated again for 
the vile purposes of slavery. 

In the year 1867 he again visited England, and at a public 
breakfast given in his honor at St. James's Half, at which were 
present the late venerable Earl Russell, J. Stuart Mill, John 
Bright, and other leading statesmen and philanthropists, he 
made use of these words : " I have been here three times before 
on anti-slavery missions, and wherever I travelled I was always 
exultingly told, ' Slaves cannot breathe in England ! ' Now I 
am at liberty to say, and I came over with the purpose to say 
it, ' Slaves cannot breathe in America ! ' And so England and 
America stand side by side in the cause of negro emancipation; 
and side by side may they stand in all that is noble and good, 
leading the way gloriously in the world's redemption." 

The last few years of this great and good man's life Avere 
spent in well-earned ease and repose. In 1868 his friends 
raised for him a national testimonial of $30,000. Yet he con- 
tinued to take a lively interest in all the vital questions of the 
day, giving expression to his opinions from time to time, both 
from the platform and the press. In the summer of 1878 he 
again visited England, in the hope that the change might re- 
cruit his failing strength; but it does not seem to have pro- 
duced any lasting benefit. 



266 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

He was of a most gentle and lovable disposition, forgiving 
and forbearing even to those who were seeking his life, and was 
able to say, " Even while the Southern slaveholders were seek- 
ing my destruction, I never for a moment entertained any other 
feeling towards them than an earnest desire under God to de- 
liver them from an awful curse and a deadly sin." Such was 
the mild and benignant expression of his countenance that it 
has been said that a stranger seeing his portrait exposed for 
sale in a shop window purchased it, as the most benevolent 
and apostolic face he had ever seen. Nothing is more certain 
than that agitation was against every instinct of his nature; and 
it was only his great love for humanity and indignation against 
tyranny and oppression that nerved him to his self-imposed 
task. On the 24th of May, 1879, he departed full of years, 
honored and loved by his countrymen of every race and color, 
and leaving behind him one of the grandest examples of heroic 
courage, steadfastness to principles, and unflinching zeal in a 
noble and benevolent cause, ever recorded. 

His funeral was indeed a remarkable scene. The venerable 
poet VVhittier, besides many of the most distinguished of the 
dead philanthropists, co-workers in the same cause, stood 
around the bier. Wendell Phillips surpassed himself. Looking 
into the coffin in which all that was mortal of William Lloyd 
Garrison was lying, the great orator exclaimed, " Farewell for a 
little while, noblest of Christian men ! " Certainly no single 
life affords a higher example of the mighty power of the right 
to gain the victory over the wrong, than this most loyal and 
steadfast one has left us. 




ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 267 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 

[Born 1S09. Died 1865.] 

T^HE eminent man whose career forms our present study 
■*- appears in a singular variety of interesting situations. He 
literally filled many parts, from rail-splitter, pilot, postmaster, 
to legislator, and finally President of the United States. In the 
old-world countries, particularly in England, such possibilities, 
how common soever in the past, are most rare, and year by 
year are becoming rarer; such transformations in their first 
aspect seem like a page from " Gil Bias.". In young America 
they occur constantly. As an instance of splendid but not ig- 
noble " rising in the world," or what we somewhat loosely call 
self-help ; as an able ruler and a pure patriot ; as a philanthro- 
pist, emancipating millions of slaves, — in these public char- 
acters, not to mention the solid virtues and humanizing, kindly 
charms of his private life, the " Martyred President " is a figure 
great and notable. 

Before proceeding with the main incidents of President Lin- 
coln's life, we will advert, in brief, to the origin and progress of 
slavery in America. The English slave-trade began with Sir 
John Hawkins in 1562. He had obtained leave from Queen 
Elizabeth to carry Africans to America with their own free con- 
sent ; but he forced them on board his ships, not without slaugh- 
ter, and escaped without punishment; nay, a few years later, he 
received high honor from the Queen. When Virginia attained 
a fixed condition as a colony — about 161 5, when fifty acres of 
land were assigned to every emigrant and his heirs — the culti- 
vation of tobacco instantly followed. Five years later, a Dutch 
ship brought a cargo of negroes from the coast of Africa, 
whom the Virginians joyfully received as slaves. But slavery 
had no legal sanction. Once introduced,, it became chronic ; 



268 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

children and grandchildren were born in slavery. In 1645, 
when slaves were brought to Boston, the magistracy committed 
the sellers to prison, sharply denounced their crime, and or- 
'dered the slaves to be sent home at the public expense. Negro 
slavery became, however, domesticated in all the American col- 
onies, nor did it wholly cease in the northern section until after 
the Revolutionary War. At the era of American Independence 
South Carolina and Georgia were the chief slaveholding com- 
munities. Through the immense impulse given to cotton culture 
in the South 1 the number of slaves was nearly doubled in twenty 
years, — from 1790 to 18 10, — going from about 700,000 to 
1,200,000 souls. At length, in 1808, Congress forbade the im- 
portation of Africans. By cutting off this source of supply the 
increase was limited to what slaves were bred within the States 
themselves; and in forty years more (i860), the period of the 
Civil War, the whole number of slaves was only a little more 
than 4,000,000. But the political complications arising from 
the nation having gradually become half slave and half free 
were assuming the gravest character; and the rupture between 
the sections came at last exactly where it had begun to fore- 
shadow itself seventy-three years earlier, namely, upon the 
question of introducing slavery into the free territory of the 
Union. The sagacious framers of the Constitution did not de- 
sire this; and in the celebrated Ordinance of 1787, framed 
for the government of the unorganized territories, slavery was 
expressly forbidden. Then, in 1803, came the acquisition of 
Louisiana with its slaveholding population. Then, in 1820, 
the Missouri Compromise, allowing slavery in Missouri, but 
prohibiting it north of the since famous geographical limit of 
$6° 30'. Then came the contest over the admission of Texas 
with a constitution providing for a similar division into slave 
and free territory ; then over California, which indeed came 
into the Union free, but simultaneously with the enactment 
by Congress of the iniquitous Fugitive Slave Law, by which 
slaves escaping into free States could be seized wherever found 
and sent back into slavery. Ever since the Mexican War 
1 See our article on Eli Whitney. 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 269 

had been waged for the extension of slavery (an end accom- 
plished by the admission of Texas), public sentiment at the 
North had been consolidating upon the dictum " No more slave 
territory." The Fugitive Slave Act still further solidified this 
feeling. The rendition of slaves was resisted ; and presently the 
people, whom respect for the Constitution of the nation had so 
long held back, began to form a political party under the omi- 
nous name of " Free Soil." Events then hastened on. When, 
in 1854, the provisions of the Missouri Compromise were re- 
pealed, the end was ominously near. Again the South demanded 
the admission of Kansas as a slave State. A struggle began 
within the borders of this territory, which culminated in the ad- 
mission of Kansas as a free State, and in the election of a " Free 
Soil," or " Republican," president. The South, seeing its pres- 
tige in the nation gone, then determined upon secession. Abra- 
ham Lincoln was the president who had been chosen, and who 
was now confronted by the gravest crisis that had occurred in 
the nation's history. Fortunate, indeed, was it for the Amer- 
ican Republic that, under God, the people had made choice of 
this man to stand at the helm of State ! We will now review 
the career of Lincoln. 

Abraham Lincoln, sixteenth President of the United States, was 
born at Hardin or Larue, in Kentucky, Feb. 12, 1809. His an- 
cestors, who were for some generations Quakers, belonged 
to Virginia and to Kentucky. His father, Thomas Lincoln of 
Virginia, was twice married, — first in 1806 to Nancy Hanks, 
the mother of Abraham, and afterwards, in 18 19, to a widow and 
old neighbor named Johnston. With the stepmother Abraham 
always maintained the kindest relations. In 18 16 the family 
removed to what is now Spencer County, Indiana, settling in 
the forest. Abraham worked with his father in clearing up the 
new farm, being unusually vigorous for his age. His mother 
could read, but not write ; his father could do neither ; but 
young Abraham received one year of the most meagre school- 
ing, which was all that he ever enjoyed. Still the mother's in- 
fluence may be guessed from Lincoln's remark when President : 
" All that I am, all that I hope to be, I owe to my sainted 



270 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

mother." He grew up in the land of free labor in a log cabin, 
passing, nevertheless, meditative and fruitful hours in that soli- 
tude which, as Gibbon finely says, is the school of genius. He 
became expert at figures. His books were few: " yEsop's 
Fables," the Bible, the " Pilgrim's Progress," " Burns's Poems," 
" Robinson Crusoe," and a " Life of Washington " are named, 
together with the " Revised Statutes of Indiana." It was his 
custom to keep a note-book, in which to jot down his favorite 
passages. In after years he exhibited a large share of native 
and incommunicable eloquence, — as conspicuously in the ora- 
tion pronounced over the men who had fallen at Gettysburg, — 
but his choice and collocation of words, terse, pithy, idiomatic, 
must have been greatly moulded by the chances of this early 
reading. The Latin element in the language, if predominant, is 
pompous, as in Johnson; the mixture of Latin and English 
derivatives, as in De Quincey, is English at its best; the Saxon 
(so called), as in Defoe or the Bible, is the general dialect of 
home, of direct address, of popular appeal, — as we find it in. 
Mr. Bright or Mr. Spurgeon, and largely, we believe, in Lincoln. 
His education, using the word in its strictest sense of training, 
was, as George Bancroft puts it, "thoroughly American; " and 
he could have found it in no other country on the earth. 

In 1825 he was employed, at six dollars a month, to manage 
a ferry across the Ohio. He was famous as a story-teller, as an 
amateur orator, and for a certain ability in playful doggerel sat- 
ire, and in addition for his skill as a wrestler. He was six feet 
four inches high. In 1828 he went to New Orleans as "bow 
hand" on a flatb oat with a cargo of produce. In 1830 the 
family moved to Illinois, clearing there fifteen acres of land, for 
the fencing of which Abraham memorably split the rails. In 
1 83 1, aided by his half-brother and brother-in-law, he built a 
fiatboat and navigated it to New Orleans, rescued the boat and 
cargo from grave peril, and afterwards obtained a patent for 
"an improved method of lifting vessels over shoals." On this 
trip Lincoln for the first time at New Orleans saw slaves chained 
and scourged, — a spectacle which powerfully intensified his 
detestation of slavery. 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 271 

In 1832 we find Lincoln clerk in a store till the bankruptcy 
of his employer ; pilot of the first steamboat on the Sangamon ; 
captain of volunteers in the "Black Hawk" war. Then he kept 
a store and was postmaster of New Salem. His partner proved 
a drunkard, and died; the firm failed, but Lincoln — and this 
is certainly noteworthy — paid the debts, discharging the last 
one so many years afterwards as 1849. In 1834 he set up as 
surveyor, but his instruments were sold under a sheriff's execu- 
tion. Truly, if ever any man was "Jack of all trades," Lincoln 
was that one; and generally he contrived to get along quite 
comfortably and creditably. Strictly speaking, perhaps, he 
was not a man of genius, though possessing a pronounced in- 
dividuality; but he had wonderful ability, he had versatility 
and tact; he had the infinite opportunities of a new and not 
over-populated country, — room to breathe in ; and he also had 
' a splendid physical constitution. He was a notable wrestler in 
every way. At twenty-five he took a " new departure." He 
was elected to the Legislature of Illinois, where he served eight 
years. Meanwhile, according to Bancroft, he had not gone 
deeply into literature, adding to his Defoe and Bunyan " nothing 
but Shakspeare's plays," Clearly he had no time whatever to 
spare; yet for all, particularly for a public man, the lack of lit- 
erature must be held a serious drawback. But Shakspeare, in- 
telligently read, implies a good deal ; and when to this is added 
Lincoln's great familiarity with, and partiality for the Bible, he 
must be held to have laid an unsurpassed foundation. 

In 1837, being aged twenty-seven, he was admitted to the 
bar, and opened an office at Springfield, where he soon became 
noted for his ability in jury trials. In November, 1842, he mar- 
ried Mary, daughter of the Hon. Robert S. Todd, of Lexington, 
Kentucky. In 1846 he was elected to Congress by a majority of 
fifteen hundred, his competitor on the Democratic ticket (i. e. 
the Southern and pro-slavery side) being the Rev. Peter Cart- 
wright. In this Congress Lincoln was the only "Whig" can- 
didate from Illinois. He vigorously opposed the administration 
of President Polk, denouncing the war with Mexico as unjust. 
When the President declared that the Mexicans " had invaded 



272 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

our territory and shed the blood of our citizens on our own 
soil," Lincoln introduced the famous "spot" resolutions, asking 
the President to name the place where the alleged outrage had 
been committed. It was a clever and characteristic way of burst- 
ing a rhetorical bubble. Thus, on his first appearance on the 
stage of the national Congress, did Lincoln stand forth for reason 
and humanity. 

In Congress, moreover, in 1849, he introduced a bill for abol- 
ishing slavery in the District of Columbia; he voted for the 
reception of antislavery petitions ; he voted nearly forty times 
in favor of the principle of the famous Jefferson proviso. He 
declined to become a candidate for re-election. In 1849, again 
he sought eagerly but unsuccessfully the place of Commis- 
sioner of the Land Office, and he refused an appointment that 
would have transferred his residence to Oregon. In July, 1852, 
he delivered at Springfield a eulogy on Henry Clay. He be- 
came the acknowledged leader of his party in Illinois. In 1858, 
as the rival of Douglas at Springfield, he significantly declared : 
" This Union cannot permanently endure, half slave and half 
free ; the Union will not be dissolved, but the house will cease to 
be divided," — a happy prediction, which he powerfully aided to 
accomplish. He also declared with equal force : " I am im- 
pliedly, if not expressly, pledged to a belief in the right and 
duty of Congress to prohibit slavery in all the United States 
territories." Finally, in May, i860, the Republican National 
Convention, sitting at Chicago, nominated him for the Presi- 
dency. He was opposed in the Democratic and slavery inter- 
est by his old rival Douglas, who, in the heated contest that 
ensued, had taunted Lincoln with his lowly origin and occupa- 
tions, — taunts met with humorous rejoinders and keen expos- 
ures of sophistry. After a bitter contest Lincoln was elected 
President; and it is certainly instructive to know that, of all the 
four candidates, Douglas found himself last, — for it was Douglas 
who had carried through Congress, against vehement opposition, 
the repeal of the Missouri Compromise. 

Very incensed were the slavery men. At Harrisburg, on his 
way to Washington, Lincoln was informed of a plot to assassi- 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 273 

nate him on his passage through Baltimore, and at the earnest 
solicitation of his friends he journeyed by an earlier train and 
during the night. He was inaugurated as President, March 4, 
i860. Already seven States had formally seceded from the 
Union; ultimately four more followed them. These seven 
States sent commissioners to negotiate concerning the difficul- 
ties ; but Mr. Seward, the Secretary of State, by direction of 
Lincoln, declined to receive them. It was not admitted that 
they had any right whatever to withdraw from the Union other- 
wise than " with the consent and concert of the people of the 
United States, to be given through a national convention." Soon 
came the bombardment of Fort Sumter, which precipitated the 
war between North and South. 

Into the details of that struggle we need not enter. They 
belong to the historian and annalist, not to the writer of a bio- 
graphical sketch. The President, with firmness, resisted the 
well-meant but somewhat intrusive efforts at mediation pro- 
jected by England in concert with France. The business of the 
blockade and the " Alabama," and the seizure of the commis- 
sioners, Mason and Slidell, from the " Trent," created stir and 
annoyance enough in England at the time. Happily, however, 
Englishmen were divided during the progress of the war; and 
there are now none of any party who regret its grand result, the 
extinction of slavery, — that "execrable sum of all villanies," 
as the venerable Wesley described it. Lincoln ever viewed it 
as such, if occasionally he placed the stability of the Union first 
and the fall of slavery second in his regards. Great firmness 
and dignity, too, were shown in the refusal to recognize the 
empire of Maximilian in Mexico. 

In October, 1864, Lincoln for the second time was elected 
President. " With malice towards none, with charity for all, 
with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us 
finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds," — 
such was the language of his address. His work, indeed, already 
neared its completion. He visited the army, remained with it 
till the fall of Richmond, then suddenly was recalled to Wash- 
ington by tidings of an accident to Secretary Seward. On the 

18 



274 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

evening of Good Friday he visited Ford's Theatre, accompanied 
by Mrs. Lincoln and a few friends. Shortly after ten an ob- 
scure actor, John Wilkes Booth, entered the box, having first 
barred the passage, approached the President from behind, put 
a pistol to his head and fired, exclaiming, " Sic semper tyran- 
nis; the South is avenged." Lincoln's head fell forward, his 
eyes closed, and he never regained consciousness, dying on the 
following morning. His body was embalmed, lay in state in 
the Capitol and in various cities, and the interment took place 
at Springfield, May 4, 1865. 

Lincoln, in the eloquent words of Bancroft, " finished a work 
which all time cannot overthrow. ... He was followed by the 
sorrow of his country to his resting-place in the heart of the 
Mississippi Valley, to be remembered through all time by his 
countrymen, and by all the peoples of the world." To him, 
too, applies aptly the eulogy pronounced by the historian of the 
Roman Republic, Dr. Adam Ferguson, on Cato of Utica, who 
"was naturally warm and affectionate in his temper; compre- 
hensive, impartial, and strongly possessed with the love of man- 
kind. In his conduct he probably became independent of 
passion of any sort, and chose what was just on its own ac- 
count." Altogether, Lincoln may justly claim high place, not 
only as an American patriot, but as a benefactor of mankind. 
His name is enshrined in the hearts of the freedmen as that of 
their predestined deliverer out of bondage. 



ANDREW BELL. 

[Born 1753. Died 1832.] 

THE Madras system of education, which at the beginning of 
the present century was the great subject of discussion 
among educators, was a real novelty, but it was achievable, — 
it had been tested by facts. Its success was manifest; and what 




ANDREW BELL. 



ANDREW BELL. 275 

chiefly strengthened its claim on public attention was the readi- 
ness with which its results could be obtained by all who fol- 
lowed the precepts of the inventor. Pestalozzi had declared 
that " anybody could teach anything," and Jacotot had put 
forth the astounding paradox that anybody can teach, and, 
moreover, can teach that which he does not know ! But the 
great drawback to each of these latter systems was the fact that 
the inventor's personal enthusiasm was the main secret of suc- 
cess. Others tried them, and tried in vain. One by one 
almost all the various Pestalozzian institutions have given way 
to other establishments, while the trick of Jacotot, so plausible 
in his own hands, is now almost forgotten. Dr. Bell, more 
reasonably and practically, professed to show a plan by which 
a school under the superintendence of a master should teach 
itself. 

Andrew Bell was born at St. Andrews, Scotland, in 1753, and 
was educated at the ancient university of that city. Early in 
life he went out to America, but after a short stay returned, 
and took orders in the Scottish Episcopal Church. His first 
appointment was to a curacy at Leith. The work, however, dis- 
appointed him, and in 1787 he sailed for India. His intention 
was to devote himself to lecturing on natural philosophy and 
other scientific subjects, for which his university education had 
fully qualified him. On his arrival at Madras he met with great 
encouragement, to use his own words, — " in the line of the 
Church." Among other offices to which he was appointed was 
that of chaplain to the garrison, and here it was that he first 
displayed his inventive genius in the way of education. Some 
time before his arrival a school for educating the orphan chil- 
dren of European soldiers had been established at Madras, and 
to Dr. Bell, as chaplain, was intrusted its superintendence and 
management. For this work a good salary was offered him ; 
but payment he entirely declined, considering that instruction 
to the young was one of the duties of his office as a clergy- 
man. His difficulties on commencing the task were immense. 
The children were half-caste, of the weakest possible grade in 
moral and intellectual faculties, and thus calculated to try to 



276 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

the utmost the patience of the keenly intellectual and restless- 
minded Scotchman ; while the teachers were obstinate, and so 
much oppressed by the lethargy incident to a tropical climate 
that they refused to carry out the plans he proposed. The 
position was one which demanded the utmost tact and knowl- 
edge of human character; and yet, with possession of both 
these uncommon qualifications, Dr. Bell was on the point of 
failure. Thinking over the apparently insuperable difficulties 
by which he was beset, he happened during a morning ride to 
pass by a Malabar school, when he noticed the children seated 
on the ground writing in the sand with their fingers. He has- 
tened home, repeating the idea of Archimedes, " I have it now," 
and gave immediate orders to the teachers of the lowest classes 
to teach the alphabet in the same manner, in sand strewn upon 
a board. With apparent readiness, but real disinclination, the 
plan was tried. But to the doctor's surprise it utterly failed, 
and upon being pressed to renew their efforts the masters 
refused point blank, declaring the thing to be impossible. So, 
despairing of help from his assistant masters, he bethought 
himself of employing a child on whose fidelity and skill he 
could rely to teach the alphabet class in the manner he had 
suggested. Perhaps it may not be out of place to record the 
name of this first monitor in the system so famous in the annals 
of elementary education. He was called John Frisken. He 
was the son of a soldier, and at the time of his appointment 
only eight years old. The doctor gave him such instructions 
as he deemed necessary, and told him that he should hold him 
answerable for success. And success followed. This mere 
child effected without difficulty what the class-master had de- 
clared to be impossible. Young as he was, he was appointed 
permanent teacher of the class, and Dr. Bell placed other boys 
as assistants in the lower classes, giving to Frisken the superin- 
tendence of the whole. The same rapid progress and the 
same brilliant success attended this second experiment. The 
result was decisive, and by degrees the delighted chaplain 
applied his monitorial method to the whole school. Masters, 
such as they had been, were converted into overseers rather 



ANDREW BELL. 277 

than teachers, the first principles of what afterwards developed 
into the pupil-teacher scheme were established, and Dr. Bell 
became the founder of the so-called " Madras," or monitorial, 
system of education. 

This was in 1791. Three years afterwards, Dr. Bell wrote to 
a friend : " The school promises fair to present me with the sole 
reward I have sought of all my labors with my young pupils, 
by giving to society an annual crop of good and useful sub- 
jects, many of them rescued from the lowest state of depravity 
and wretchedness." As to acquirements, the boys very soon 
surpassed their former masters, gaining sound instruction in 
arithmetic, book-keeping, grammar, geography, geometry, 
mensuration, navigation, and astronomy, — a pretty fair cur- 
riculum for boys of the " weakest possible grade in moral and 
intellectual faculties." 

On learning the success of Bell's experiment, persons in- 
terested in education in Europe applied to him for advice or 
suggestions. Among the rest Mr. Edgeworth, the well-known 
writer on education, applied to him for advice with regard to 
the proper selection of books for instruction. Dr. Bell replied 
that he could not recommend books to a man who had read 
so much, adding, " There is only one book which I take the 
liberty to recommend. It is a book in which I have learned 
all I have taught, and infinitely more, — a book open to all 
alike and level to every capacity, which only requires time, 
patience, and perseverance, with a dash of enthusiasm, in the 
perusal, — I mean a school full of children •" 

The immediate effect upon the pupils themselves of the 
Madras Orphan Asylum was an eager demand for them to fill 
important , situations. The school became not only popular 
but famous, and the Government took measures for extending 
its system of teaching to the other Presidencies. Meantime, 
as the doctor's health had begun to suffer from the effects of 
the climate, he made arrangements for returning to Europe. 
On his arrival in England he was appointed to the rectory of 
Swanage, in Dorset, and at once devoted himself to the forma- 
tion of Sunday-schools on the Madras plan. He was again 



278 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

opposed, as he had been in India, by those who should have 
been his best helpers, and it was only by dint of the most de- 
termined perseverance that he overcame the difficulties thrown 
in his way. His system certainly obtained an introduction 
into several towns, but it was worked only in a languid man- 
ner. The usual fate of personal methods seemed destined to 
attach itself to this also. Fortunately, however, for its vital- 
ity, a rival system, supposed by many to be identical with 
his own, brought the Anglo-Indian educationist prominently 
before the public. Controversy began, and the respective 
claims of the Madras and of the Lancaster systems were 
warmly urged by their excited partisans. Dr. Bell's own opin- 
ion of Lancaster is expressed in a letter to Mrs. Trimmer, — 
a lady who had some fame at the time as a compiler of school- 
books, and whose well-meant but somewhat unpractical epit- 
omes were then great favorites in ladies' boarding-schools. 
With considerably more zeal than discretion, this lady had 
called the doctor's attention to what she characterized as schis- 
matic endeavors on the part of Lancaster to overturn the Es- 
tablished Church, and to rob the inventor of the new method 
of education of his influence by " building on his foundation." 
" Ever since I conversed with him," writes Dr. Bell, " and read 
some of his familiar letters, I have suspected that he has much 
assistance in his published works of every kind. He is illiter- 
ate and ignorant, with a brazen front, consummate assurance, 
and the most artful and plausible address, not without ability 
and ingenuity, heightened in its effects under the Quaker 
guise." At the same time he gives his rival credit for much 
originality both in the applying and improving of the Madras 
system. " No one," says his biographer, Mr. Southcy, " could 
have been more liberal than Dr. Bell was in acknowledging 
Lancaster's merits. . . . His zeal, ingenuity, and perseverance 
deserved high praise, and this they obtained." However dis- 
posed the inventor of the new system might be to rest con- 
tent with his clerical duties, the indefatigable Mrs. Trimmer 
would not permit him. At length, not only he, but the whole 
Church party, was fairly aroused, and Church and chapel ranked 



ANDREW BELL. 279 

themselves as antagonists in the monitorial war. Sermons were 
preached, public meetings were held, pamphlets were published ; 
even caricatures of the rival educationists embellished the cur- 
rent literature. Southey, Coleridge, and the "Quarterly" thun- 
dered down on Lancaster, while Brougham, Sydney Smith, 
and the "Edinburgh" flashed equal denunciations on the in- 
novator and imputed plagiarist from Madras. In point of fact, 
Lancaster acknowledged himself indebted for many impor- 
tant suggestions to Dr. Bell, but at the same time claimed the 
monitorial idea as an independent invention of his own. Much 
might be said in favor of the persevering young Quaker and 
his improvements on Bell's idea. The great value of the con- 
troversy of 1805 -6 to the community was that it brought the 
question of education to the front, and gave it an importance 
which hitherto it had not attained. 

In 181 1 a society for establishing schools on the Madras sys- 
tem in connection with the Established Church was founded, 
and called the National Society. This was the beginning of 
English National schools. From the date of their foundation 
until Dr. Bell's death his career is inseparably associated with 
their progress. He devoted himself entirely to the work, labor- 
ing with unwearied zeal to promote the welfare of the society, 
and, after prodigious exertions, had the satisfaction of seeing his 
system adopted not only in the United Kingdom, but even in 
America. He also endeavored to introduce it on the Conti- 
nent of Europe, and travelled much with that view. But in 
this attempt he was not successful, as Pestalozzi and Fellenberg 
were already in possession of the field. In the course of his 
labors as clergyman, school-manager, and inspector, Dr. Bell 
by no means trenched upon a narrow purse. On the contrary, 
he realized a very handsome fortune. The sum of £1 20,000, 
which he had made out of the various offices he had held, was 
bequeathed at his death in endowments for various schools, 
nearly one half being given to his own University of St. 
Andrews towards the Madras College, of which he was the 
founder. He died at Cheltenham on the 27th of January, 1832, 
and was buried in Westminster Abbey. 



280 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



JOSEPH LANCASTER. 

[Born 1778. Died 1S3S.] 

TN our notice of the life and educational labors of Dr. Andrew 
-*- Bell we were under the necessity of making some allusion 
to the young man whom Dr. Bell's friends insisted upon de- 
nouncing as a plagiarist and a rival. And seen from the point 
of view taken by the supporters of the Madras scheme of edu- 
cation, there certainly seemed some ground for complaint. It 
now becomes our duty to examine this side of the question, to 
see what explanation could be offered for the seeming rivalry, 
and whether Joseph Lancaster had not sufficient excuse for 
considering himself, if not an inventor, at least a great improver 
upon a system which offered so many advantages both to master 
and pupil in the theory and practice of education. It is cer- 
tainly a fact that whether his theories were original or not, 
Lancaster devoted himself to the practical development of the 
views he held quite as completely and as enthusiastically as his 
more learned predecessor. It is also a fact that Lancaster 
claimed as his own meritorious idea, that by his methods " one 
master could teach a thousand boys." If a personal contrast 
were drawn between the two men as to character, manners, and 
temperament, it is much to be feared that Lancaster would 
suffer. If it be said that Bell was prudent, deliberate, quiet, 
and that Lancaster was excitable, impetuous, and improvident, 
the charge must certainly be admitted. One might briefly sum 
up such differences by saying that Bell was a Scotchman, 
Lancaster was not. For it may be singular, but it is notorious, 
that a man born north of the Tweed appears to be constitu- 
tionally more prudent, cautious, and, as a rule, successful in 
worldly matters than one who enters life on the other side of 
that historic but shallow estuary. 




wm&y^ 



ZSfV&jf&S' 



JOSEPH LANCASTER. 



JOSEPH LANCASTER. 281 

Joseph Lancaster, the founder of the Lancasterian, or British 
School, system of education, was born in Southwark in 1778. 
He was the son of a pious soldier, who had fought under 
the British flag in America, and had earned retirement and a 
pension. Early impressed by the seriousness of his father's 
character, and inheriting a similarity of temperament, he very 
soon showed an eager desire to devote himself to the active 
service of God. This youthful enthusiasm showed itself in an 
attempt, after reading Clarkson's " Essay on the Slave Trade," 
to go off to Jamaica and become a'Scripture reader to the poor 
negroes. He was discovered by the captain of a West Indian 
ship in which he had secreted himself with a Bible and " Pil- 
grim's Progress " in his pocket, and of course sent back to his 
parents. But this ignominious failure did not discourage him. 
At sixteen years of age he determined to begin life for himself 
as a school assistant, and after some little experience in that 
capacity his impulsive character urged him to a still more 
onerous and responsible task, — that of teaching poor children, 
whose parents could pay little or nothing for the advantages of 
school, without insisting on remuneration. 

At the time when he formed this resolution there was a class 
of elementary schools in existence known as the dame-school. 
This institution, better known, it must be confessed, through 
Shenstone's pathetic little poem of the " Schoolmistress," or 
through Crabbe's " Borough," than through Lancaster's pam- 
phlet, is thus referred to in his first published tract on his 
favorite topic : " They are frequented by boys and girls indis- 
criminately, few of them being over seven years of age. The 
mistress is frequently the wife of some mechanic, induced to 
undertake the task from a desire to increase a scanty income 
or to add to her domestic comforts." We confess that we do 
not see any great crime in motives thus candidly set forth. It 
is certain that persons can be found whose motives are neither 
better nor worse, but whose methods of supporting those mo- 
tives are by no means so innocent or useful. 

But to proceed : " The subjects of tuition are reading and 
needlework ; the number of children is very fluctuating, and 



282 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

seldom exceeds thirty. The pay is very uncertain. Disorder 
and noise seem more the characteristics of these schools than 
improvement of any kind. Many poor children go at once 
from these schools to work, and have no other opportunities of 
instruction." 

With a firm conviction of the uselessncss, or worse than 
uselessness, of a system of education like this, and an enthusi- 
astic desire to be eminently useful in promoting a better state 
of things, Lancaster, in 1798, opened a school in his father's 
house, — a modest building' nearly opposite the present Train- 
ing College in the Borough Road. Here he undertook to 
teach what he considered the essentials of knowledge — read- 
ing, writing, arithmetic, and the Holy Scriptures — for four- 
pence a week. At the same time he placed over his door the 
following singular notice : " All that will may send their chil- 
dren and have them educated freely ; and those who do not 
wish to have education for nothing may pay for it if they 
please." 

The author of this very unusual announcement was then 
just twenty years of age, and possessed of no other knowledge 
either of methods or subjects than was to be found in the 
schools of which he complained so bitterly. Of second-grade 
schools he had no better an opinion than of the dame-schools. 
" The masters of these schools," he writes in the pamphlet just 
referred to, " are generally the refuse of superior schools, and 
too often of society at large. The pay and number of schol- 
ars are alike low and fluctuating. Of course there is little 
encouragement for steady men, either to engage or continue 
in this line; it being impossible to keep school, defray its ex- 
penses, and do the children regular justice without a regular 
income. Eventually many schools, respectable in better times, 
are abandoned to men of any character, who use as much 
chicane to fill their pockets as the most despicable pettifogger. 
Writing-books are scribbled through, whole pages filled with 
scrawls, to hasten the demand for new books. These schools 
arc chiefly attended by the children of artificers, whose pay 
fluctuates with their employ, and is sometimes withheld by bad 






JOSEPH LANCASTER. 283 

principals. Debts are often contracted that do not exceed a 
few shillings ; then the parents remove their children from 
school and never pay it, the smallness of the sum proving an 
effectual bar to its recovery, the trouble and loss of time being 
worse than the loss of money in the first instance." 

Lancaster's first school did not show any peculiar signs of 
success or prosperity. Even though swelled by a considerable 
proportion of gratuitous pupils, the summer school-list was only 
about one hundred and twenty. In winter the attendance 
scarcely reached one half this number. At one time, during a 
period of scarcity, many of the children had dinner as well as 
education gratis, — the cost being defrayed by certain generous 
friends of the promoter of the scheme. 

It was while practising, or, rather, vainly attempting to prac- 
tise, the plan which he had thus devised, and which he had 
adopted much too hastily and prematurely, that he " stumbled," 
to use his own term, on a plan similar to that of Dr. Bell, before 
reading the Madras Report. This was denied by the sup- 
porters of the National system ; but although Lancaster was 
induced to admit that after reading the Report he had adopted 
some of its ideas to improve his own scheme, he still persisted 
in the statement that the monitorial idea was one hit upon by 
himself independently, and was therefore equally original with 
that of his predecessor, 

The effect of the new method was almost startling in its suc- 
cess. In 1 801 he had to remove to more extensive premises, 
provided for him through the valuable influence and help of 
Lord Somerville and the Duke of Bedford. This establishment 
was the forerunner of the present Training College and schools 
which many years afterwards were erected on the same spot. 
A more enthusiastic teacher than Lancaster never lived. Far 
from rushing off to his home or other occupations as soon as 
school hours came to a close, he would join the children's play 
in the intervals of work, and invite companies of them to tea. 
His very holidays were spent in their society, — in country 
strolls and outdoor recreations. Self-sacrifice was really a 
pleasure to him, for it was the indulgence of his earnest desire 



284 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

to be useful to his charge. Unfortunately for him, he became 
famous. Visitors of the highest rank crowded to witness the 
extraordinary spectacle in which one schoolmaster was teach- 
ing a thousand scholars. " Foreign princes, ambassadors, 
peers, commoners, ladies of distinction, bishops, and arch- 
bishops," says Mr. Dunn, the able and energetic secretary of 
the British and Foreign School Society, " turned their steps to 
the Borough Road, and there beheld a scene they were not 
likely to forget. The whole tone of the place was joyous, 
duties were agreeably varied from hour to hour, and though 
the noise often bewildered a visitor, it was at least the noise 
of animated work, and was succeeded in an instant, at the 
word of command, by perfect stillness." 

That Lancaster did not solve the vexed and difficult problem 
of school discipline — notwithstanding the above glowing 
description — is evident from the strange and absurd devices 
for punishment enumerated in his own list. One of the favor- 
ite methods at first adopted was that of the " log," — a mode 
of torture which reminds one of the ingenuity of Oriental 
magistrates rather tha'n the humane suggestion of a man who 
above all things wished to avoid actual flogging because of its 
cruelty and degradation. Of course the absence of " corporal 
punishment," with such contrivances as the "log" and the 
" shackle," was merely nominal. To avoid a chastisement 
which applied a smart pain to the shoulders, or, however ap- 
plied, was not actually injurious to health or limb, and to 
replace it by another which gave pain without physical smart 
and added moral humiliation, had at first sight a specious 
appearance, not only of novelty, but of a revolution in school 
management. But experience proved otherwise ; and Lancaster 
himself had to abandon many' of the puerile devices which 
had apparently promised to solve the great and growing diffi- 
culty of discipline. 

Four years after the opening of the second school in the 
Borough Road, Lancaster was summoned to an audience with 
the King; and it was on this occasion that the kind-hearted 
monarch gave utterance to a saying almost as historic as that 



JOSEPH LANCASTER. 285 

of Henry IV. of France. " I would," said the enthusiastic 
Frenchman, " that every peasant in my dominions may have a 
fowl in his pot." " It is my wish," said George III., " that 
every poor child in my dominions should be taught to read 
the Bible." 

A new era in the history of the Lancasterian movement 
began from this interview. The King headed the subscription 
list, and money poured into the school exchequer. Lancaster 
was at this moment a complete success. But at the very junc- 
ture which might have proved the making not only of the 
system but of the man, he lost his head. He began a series 
of progresses to various towns, delivering lectures which he 
illustrated by the aid of monitors who accompanied him. The 
enthusiasm which animated his explanations spread to his va- 
ried audiences, and he had the satisfaction of asserting that 
in one year a new school on his system had been opened in 
every week. In this way, and by reckless expenditure on 
school treats and a visionary attempt to adapt the system to 
agricultural processes, the funds, once apparently inexhaust- 
ible, and in reality exceedingly ample, were reduced until the 
imprudent speculator found himself not merely impoverished, 
but in debt. In this state of things a committee was formed, 
who, seeing what might be made of the system with judicious 
management, paid Lancaster's debts, and rehabilitated the un- 
dertaking under the name of the Royal Lancasterian Institu- 
tion. This took place in 1808. Six years later, the name was 
changed to that of the British and Foreign School Society, in 
which it still continues. In all these changes Lancaster might 
still have been happy and successful. But he could not control 
financial matters. Allowed an ample salary, and burdened 
only with the condition of keeping a strict account of his pecu- 
niary transactions with regard to the institution, he yet could 
not mould himself to the safer and more prudent line of con- 
duct. The result was that finally he quarrelled with the com- 
mittee, threw up his place, opened a private school at Tooting, 
and, after a repetition of pecuniary troubles, in 181 8 emigrated 
to America. For twenty years he labored on the familiar 



286 



OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



lines, with frequent reverses, but with many opportunities of 
success, until at length an accident in the streets of New York 
put a sudden end to his troubled and fluctuating career. 

In looking back upon the labors of this devoted and enthu- 
siastic schoolmaster, we can afford to forget all his faults in 
the presence of the truly great work which he founded and 
carried on to such unquestionable success. The one point on 
which he insisted, of making the teaching of the Bible a part 
of his curriculum, was in his own day, as it has been since, 
seized upon as a party and sectarian question. It was that on 
which controversy hinged, and about which the storm arose 
which was referred to in our sketch of Dr. Bell. The recent 
decision of the Birmingham School Board, after so much bitter 
disputation, favors the opinion that, on the whole, Lancaster's 
view was correct. And it is the opinion of one of the most 
experienced of school inspectors, that, above all things, Lancas- 
ter's greatest praise was his vindication of a Christian yet 
unsectarian system of education. 



ELIHU BURRITT. 



[Born iSio. Died 1879] 



TT is one of the prominent traits of nature's nobility to dis- 
-■- dain higher titles than those which fortune brings. The 
innate ambition of these " sons of the soil " does not appear 
in a name, in being or becoming great, but in improving their 
own race and time, and leaving the world better than they find 
it. A true sagacity characterizes them, and they are acutely 
alive to the imperfections of both. So with heroic courage 
they leap into the breach, and become the means of a reforma- 
tion which marks their memory beyond the power of ages to 
efface. When Marshman, the master of languages, translator 
of the Bible, and founder of the Indian colleges, as he sat at 




ELIHU BURRITT. 



ELIHU BURRITT. 287 

table and overheard one distinguished guest inquire of another 
whether he (Marshman) had not been a shoemaker, he vigor- 
ously replied, " No, only a cobbler." 

Justice can assert her rights even among the humblest, and 
these are happily hereditary ; for when Elihu Burritt, the sub- 
ject of these lines, was first brought into notoriety, he at once 
replied : " I had, until the unfortunate denouement which I 
have mentioned, pursued the even tenor of my own way, un- 
noticed even among my brethren and my kindred. None of 
them even thought I had any particular genius, as it is called. 
I never thought so myself." He realized that " a prophet is 
not without honor, save in his own country and in his own 
house," yet he persevered, insensible of the public gaze which 
was already fastened on him, and unaware what a crown his 
genius was then weaving. His life was a vivid example of 
what hard work and untiring application can accomplish. The 
true nobility of man and dignity of labor were his by inher- 
itance. He knew that 

" Perseverance keeps honor bright," 

and so worked and labored until the end came, when he 
passed to a far higher ministry than earth had to offer. 

Elihu Burritt was born at New Britain, in the State of Con- 
necticut, December 8, 18 10. His father was a shoemaker and 
farmer, — a hard-working man, who united with his homely 
calling a degree of philanthropy almost unknown, and whose 
only legacy was his patient, noble example. This Elihu in- 
herited and zealously cultivated. In his youth the means of 
education were few; and the only opportunity he had of becom- 
ing acquainted with books was through a loving mother, who 
subscribed to the village library, which was only open once 
during eight weeks. However, his genius first raised him to 
the dignity of a blacksmith, in which capacity during twenty 
years he found leisure for storing his mind with knowledge, so 
that at the age of twenty-seven he could read about fifty lan- 
guages. Suddenly he found himself famous. Night after 
night he sat down, with aching limbs and his hands blistered 



288 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

and painful, to master some profound question, the fruits of 
which he would sow broadcast for the good of the class and 
community to which he felt it an honor to belong. This was 
all his ambition, — to be useful to others in his generation and 
as long after as Providence might think fit. What a lesson for 
our sons of toil, the whole world over ! What an amount of 
brain energy and valuable time is thrown away in useless con- 
tests or drowned in the drink pot ! And the saddest thought 
is that neither the time nor the energy can be recovered, — an 
effect which must recoil on future generations. 

Elihu Burritt was essentially a working man from the first to 
the end of his days. The improvement of his people and 
country was his sole purpose. He never saw his own great- 
ness. This he desired for others ; and when he stepped from 
his smithy floor it was direct to the platform to proclaim the 
first and golden principles of " peace on earth and good-will 
to men," and from these he was led into the essential side 
streams of temperance, abolition of slavery, ocean postage, 
development of industries, etc., which he ably advocated in a 
weekly periodical specially commenced for the purpose. 

The first fruits of his advocacy of peace principles were 
shown in 1846, when he became the bearer of the news of an 
amicable settlement of the difference between England and 
America respecting the Oregon territory, and his feelings were 
uttered in the most poetic and sublime language. But his 
work was far from being done. In the dark hour of Ireland's 
real need in 1847 he paid a visit to that country; and in re- 
sponse to his appeal the hearts of millions, black and white, 
were stirred in America, and at length ships of war were laden, 
not with shot and shell, but with peaceful ammunition, in the 
shape of barrels of pork and flour for the starving masses. 

He lived to see further fruits of his thought and labors. 
Richard Cobden in 1849 was induced to bring before the 
House of Commons a motion which, although lost, raised the 
testimony of more than seventy members in favor of interna- 
tional arbitration; and in 1871 Henry Richard, M. P., followed 
with a similar motion, which has been acceded to, not only in 



THE REV. F. D. MAURICE. 289 

England, but in several other countries, the settlement of the 
Alabama claims being proof that those questions can be accom- 
plished without the intervention of sword and rifle. Such events 
cannot do less than mark the periods as memorable; and for 
the individuals who occupied the stage of action, who thought 
brilliantly and worked heroically, there exist no brighter 
laurels than those which deck the brow of the New England 
blacksmith. Busy with his voice and pen, although he was 
pursuing the avocation of a farmer, in the work of the good 
of the universal brotherhood of man, he still labored faithfully, 
and at last peacefully closed his career of eminent usefulness 
on the 7th of March, 1879, in his sixty-ninth year. 

Of his writings it may be said that they are unsurpassed for 
•earnestness, eloquence, feeling, elegance, and power of descrip- 
tion. They comprise many volumes, the principal of which 
are " Sparks from the Anvil," " A Voice from the Forge," 
" Peace Papers for the People," " Walks in the Black Country," 
and the " Mission of the Great Sufferings," besides smaller 
works intended for the young. 

We cannot conclude this brief and imperfect sketch of the 
career of this eminently good man without referring to the 
part he took in reducing the rate of ocean postage. To him 
we are mainly indebted for the privileges we now possess ; and 
this, among the many noble deeds in which he has at least 
taken part, if not actually accomplished, will cause his memory 
to be revered and blessed by generations yet unborn. 



THE REV. F. D. MAURICE. 

[Born 1805. Died i860.] 

THE literary world has been looking forward to the time 
when Major Maurice's military duties should permit him to 
complete the memoir of his eminent father. As, however, that 
memoir has so recently appeared, it may be permissible to give 

19 



290 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

a brief account of the origin, institution, and progress of that 
benefaction to the London artisan, the Working Men's Col- 
lege, with which the Rev. Mr. Maurice's name is indissolubly 
connected, and of which he was for many years the revered 
principal. 

The Rev. Frederick Denison Maurice, late chaplain of Lin- 
coln's Inn, Professor of King's and Queen's Colleges, London, 
was born in 1805. At an early age he entered Trinity College, 
Cambridge, about the same time as John Sterling, 1823. The 
friends afterwards migrated to Trinity Hall, and Mr. Maurice 
ultimately took his degree at Oxford. He was the author of 
numerous religious and philosophical works ; but an examina- 
tion of the purport and power of these must be left to one 
thoroughly acquainted with this eminent divine and public* 
benefactor's theological and philosophical views. 

To form a true estimate of the value of the Working Men's 
College as a benefaction to the working men of London, we 
must recollect that the educational views which led to the 
establishment of school boards and of school-board schools 
were in the earlier days of the college as yet undeveloped. 
The institution of the college itself may indeed have been a 
by no means unimportant factor in bringing about that educa- 
tional reform ; for it was designed to palliate a national over- 
sight, and to offer to the irregularly educated working man 
opportunities for mental and physical improvement at a merely 
nominal cost, and not only this, but to the talented and aspiring 
the means of rising to intellectual eminence. Such intentions 
could only be efficiently carried out by educated and earnest 
men bending their energies willingly and gratuitously to the 
noble work of teaching. 

The notion which took such a strong hold on the minds of 
Mr. Maurice and his coadjutors, and which led to the institu- 
tion of the college, appears to have originated in some self- 
questioning of Mr. Ludlow, of Lincoln's Inn, who, moved by 
the events of the revolution of 1848, asked, not only himself, 
but others, whether he and they were doing as much as they 
might and ought for that large public of less means by which 



THE REV. F. D. MAURICE. 291 

they were surrounded, — the poor and the artisan. The answer 
was a proposal to the then newly appointed chaplain of Lin- 
coln's Inn, Mr. Maurice, that some near district should be taken 
in hand by the lawyers whom Mr. Ludlow could get together. 
Little Ormond Yard was at last handed over to this little band 
of zealous workers, who, under the name of Christian Socialists, 
sought in various ways to ameliorate the condition of those 
who were writhing under difficulties around and below them. 
These benefactors used to meet at Mr. Maurice's one evening 
in the week, when Mayhew's letters on " Labor and the Poor," 
which appeared in the " Morning Chronicle," were frequently 
the subject of conversation. " Few of us," says Mr. Furnivall, 
from whose " History of the College " our information is in 
the main derived, " had any idea of the widespread misery in 
the workmen's homes around us, and fewer still knew how the 
' slop ' system had been at work lowering wages, destroying 
the honorable trade, and forcing women and children into work." 
Then a working-men's association was projected, £300 was got 
together, and a manager was found. The Rev. Charles Kings- 
ley wrote a pamphlet, and the association opened at Castle 
Street East, Oxford Street. Then came the tracts on Christian 
Socialism by Mr. Maurice, to explain why such associations 
were needed. The " Christian Socialist," a penny weekly pa- 
per, was started. Mr. Vansittart Neale came forward to help 
this band of workers, which now became the propaganda, advo- 
cating the establishment of similar institutions in different parts 
of the country. They built a hall ; and here were begun, at Mr. 
Ludlow's suggestion, classes and lectures, to both of which 
women were admitted. 

"A great want," says Mr. Furnivall, "had all along been felt 
for better education among the co-operators, and at our meet- 
ing on January 11, 1854, the minute-book records: 'A conver- 
sation took place concerning the establishment of a people's 
college in London, in connection with the association.' " And 
further on, "The following resolution, proposed by Mr. Hughes, 
seconded by Mr. Lloyd Jones, was carried : ' That it be referred 
to the Committee of Teaching and Publication to frame, and, so 



292 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

far as they think fit, to carry out, a plan for the establishment 
of a people's college in connection with the metropolitan 
associations.' " The Committee of Teaching and Publication 
consisted of the Rev. F. D. Maurice (President), Viscount 
Goderich, the Rev. H. J. Hose, William Johnson, Esq., the Rev. 
C. Kingsley, A. H. Louis, Esq., J. M. Ludlow, Esq., E. Lumlcy, 
Esq., C. B. Mansfield, Esq., E. Vansittart Neale, Esq., the Rev. 
C. K. Paul, C. R. Walsh, Esq., John Westlake, Esq., Thomas 
Shorter, Esq. (Secretary). 

Mr. Maurice outlined a plan, and put into their hands a 
printed statement of some dozen pages, on February 7, 1854. 
In this paper Mr. Maurice, among other important matters, 
gives a reason for adopting a somewhat ambitious curriculum : 
" My reason for starting with such difficult subjects as politics 
and ethics is because all our pupils are politicians and ethical 
theorists before they come to us. What we want is to put 
order into their crude thoughts, or rather to lead them grad- 
ually to perceive (we ourselves learning as we teach) the order 
which is at the bottom of their thoughts." Mr. Maurice's draft 
concludes with some consideration of the question how far the 
education of the workwoman may be joined with that of the 
workman, and where they should diverge. But the need of such 
an institution as the Working Men's College was well summa- 
rized in a circular which was afterwards issued : — 

" The working men of England are trying from various motives and in 
various ways to educate themselves ; some of them hope that their class 
may obtain greater influence in the legislature. They desire that it 
should qualify itself for that position by the study of laws and of history. 
Some of them think that there are many maxims of morality current 
among us which tend to divide and to degrade them. They wish to 
find out the true principle which binds them together and shows them 
what objects they are to live for. Some are impressed strongly with the 
mischief that comes to them from their ignorance of the causes which 
produce disease and of the best means of securing health. Some wish 
to understand better the machinery with which they are working. Some 
feel what a blessing it would be to them if they could use their voices in 
singing and their hands in drawing. Some are puzzled with a number 



THE REV. F. D. MAURICE. 293 

of doubts about the world within and without them, which they dare not 
stifle, and through which they long to see their way. 

"Working men have, therefore, established debating societies and 
societies for mutual instruction among themselves, or they have profited 
by the mechanics' institutes and evening classes which others have es- 
tablished for them. Of late in Sheffield (and we believe also in Not- 
tingham) some of them have set up a people's college, where they hope 
for more thorough instruction than they can get by either merely talking 
together or by merely attending lectures on miscellaneous subjects. 

" This thought, it seems to us, is very valuable. The name college is 
an old and venerable one. It implies a society for fellow-work, a society 
of which teachers and learners are equally members, a society in which 
men are not held together by the bond of buying and selling, a society 
in which they meet not as belonging to a class or a caste, but as having 
a common life which God has given them, and which He will cultivate 
in them." 

Such, then, were some of the preliminaries to the establish- 
ment of the London Working Men's College, first opened at 31 
Red Lion Square, October 31, 1854, and subsequently, in 1857, 
at 45 Great Ormond Street, and which has now become so 
famous and widely known. 

One of the professed objects of the college was to mitigate 
class prejudices by the intercommunion of teacher and student. 
This has led to what is called the social life of the college, in 
which both meet to discuss questions of importance, or at con- 
versations, or in some interesting excursion. Good fellowship 
was further promoted by the formation of a choir, a cricket 
club, a rifle corps, etc. Of this social life Mr. W. B. Litchfield, 
an old friend of the college, has been the presiding spirit. 

The college could only have been carried on by gratuitous 
teaching. The number of eminent men who have devoted 
themselves to this work is too numerous for us to record. This 
very fact is in itself an earnest to the working man that other 
classes take a deep interest in his desire for improvement, in his 
aspirations. Many teachers have rendered gratuitous service 
through many years. This voluntary service has no doubt had 
its effect in producing that cordial unanimity of feeling which 



294 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

obtains among all connected with the institution. And the 
teachers who have retired from active work and transferred 
their torch to other hands will all bear testimony to the persis- 
tency of the grateful remembrance of services rendered. Mr. 
Maurice was in the widest sense of the word a " humane " man, 
and his humanity initiated that admirable tone which has ever 
since been maintained in the college. He had a breadth of 
sympathy and a hopefulness of outlook which endeared him to 
all. For the earnest and striving he always had encouraging 
words. There is the future before you, he seemed to say; 
make the best of that. Nothing is denied to well-directed 
industry. 

The executive heads of the college have always endeavored to 
secure its independence, and this object has to a considerable 
extent been attained. They have always been reluctant to make 
public appeals for assistance. Still we know that the usefulness 
of the college might be increased if it only had an ampler ex- 
chequer. Noisy agitation frequently fills the coffers of insti- 
tutions of far less utility. Nevertheless it has found some 
generous donors. The Prince of Wales contributed to the 
Building Fund. 

The lamented death of Mr. Maurice, the first president of the 
college, occurred April 5, i860. His remains were interred iri 
H ighgate Cemetery, with every demonstration of affection and 
respect, on the 10th: a large concourse of friends, teachers, and 
students followed in procession and gathered round his grave. 

The college is now flourishing under the presidency of Mr. 
Thomas Hughes, O.C., who gratefully acknowledges, as do 
very many eminent men, that he is indebted to the example 
and to the teaching of Frederick Denison Maurice. 




GEORGE AUGUSTUS SELWYN. 



GEORGE AUGUSTUS SELWYN. 295 



GEORGE AUGUSTUS SELWYN. 

[Born 1S09. Died April ii, 1S7S.] 

"A Christian athlete, with eyes strong of ken, 
Muscles of steel, a foot swift as the wind, 
Lungs free of play in the broad-chested frame, 

Firm hand on rudder, lusty arm on oar, 
A voice that keen and clear as clarion came, 
Courage that risks of land and sea o'erbore. 

"And with that strength of frame like strength of will; 
A purpose clear as was his steel-gray eye j 
Courage his end to see distinctly still, 
And pluck to do whate'er he set to try. 

" So he sailed forth across Australian seas, 
To where the savage Maori held his own, 
Bark-robed, tattooed, close watching, ill at ease, 

The white man's strength, still growing, not yet grown. 

" And there the Bishop stood, between the war 
Of clans and chiefs and settlers all alone, 
Holding the Christian banner high and far 

'Bove smoke of strife, and noise of war-conch blown ! 

" Till settler, savage, in -all else apart, 

Both owned the Christian courage, Christian zeal, 
And Christian singleness of eye and heart, 

Wherewith the Bishop strove for either's weal." 

So " Punch " wrote, and well, of the subject of this brief sketch. 
As a lad, George Selwyn was an acknowledged leader in all that 
was brave and pure and good. After passing a brilliant career at 
Eton, alike in physical as in intellectual pursuits, we find him, 
in the midst of self-denying labor as curate of Windsor, fur- 
thering the work of the Church in that town by returning the 



296 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

hardly earned stipend of two years' labor towards the removal 
of a debt connected with the same. While here, Albert " the 
Good " evinced marked regard for him ; and from that time Her 
Majesty took more than an ordinary interest in the young 
priest's welfare. In the year 1 841, with his university honors 
fresh before the public, he was called to go out as the first 
Bishop of New Zealand, a colony yet red with the blood 
spilled by camiibals. Many of his friends, among whom was 
Sydney Smith, prophesied anything but a favorable ending to 
the enterprise. The trenchant words of Sir Robert Peel, who 
was then Prime Minister, were, however, a kindly tribute to 
the godly zeal of the young missionary, and fitly described the 
power that drew him from home and certain preferment to the 
care of a wild and uncivilized colony. Upon being questioned 
as to the motive for young Selwyn's action, and hearing ex- 
pressions of wonderment and concern at the same, he turned 
to his interrogator and quoted the well-known lines, — 

" He sees a hand we cannot see 
Which beckons him away." 

During the voyage out the tutor became the scholar, and 
acquired such a knowledge of the Maori language that he was 
enabled to preach his first sermon to the natives in their own 
tongue. This, together with the art of navigation, which he 
also learned during the journey, secured for him the immedi- 
ate esteem of this uncouth people. His great aim was to found 
a branch of the English Church in that far-off land, and to 
that end he devoted himself with true apostolic fervor. 

The account of his subsequent life reads like the romantic 
pages of a well-written novel. He and the Maoris became 
strongly attached to each other ; and his zeal for their social 
and political as well as their religious interests was gratefully 
recognized by, and gave him no small influence over them. 
To them he was an exemplar of muscular Christianity, and so 
gained universal admiration. No life could be more full of 
marvellous incident, and show more indefatigable labor for 
mankind, than his: to-day the broad-shouldered prelate is 



GEORGE AUGUSTUS SELWYN. 297 

building, log by log, his own hut ; to-morrow holding the tiller 
of his twenty-one ton boat as he journeys to and fro among 
the scattered islands of the South Pacific ; now riding from 
redoubt to redoubt, as he administers comfort alike to English- 
men and Maori in the New Zealand war ; then searching 
through brushwood and swamp in order to solace the wounded 
and the dying; here designing and building a college, with the 
skill of a trained architect, for the tuition of natives ; there, in 
the cabin of the " Undine," cutting out and making from sail- 
cloth the first civilized clothing that the earlier students are to 
wear ; and again crossing a swollen torrent with his timid arch- 
deacon on his back; but always leaving behind him, whether 
in the heart of the white settler or of the untutored aborigine, 
the sacred memory of a Christian and a man. 

In 1854 he returned to England, and by the soul-stirring 
addresses which he delivered at Cambridge secured for mission 
work two kindred spirits, Mackenzie and Patteson, the latter 
of whom, alas ! soon filled a martyr's grave. His power of 
administration is well exemplified by the fact that when he 
entered upon his work at the antipodes he was the first and 
only Bishop of New Zealand, but before he left, the diocese 
was divided into seven, namely, six sees for New Zealand and 
one for Melanasia. In 1867 he again visited England to attend 
the Pan- Anglican Synod. While here the Bishop of Lichfield 
died, and the vacant see was offered to Dr. Selwyn, but de- 
clined. His heart yearned towards the church he had nursed, 
and it was only upon pressure from Her Majesty that he reluc- 
tantly accepted it, visiting his old diocese once more in order to 
take a last farewell of it. As the apostle to the heathen in 
the South Pacific his name will be handed down to posterity ; 
and as the ninetieth Bishop of Lichfield he will be held in rev- 
erence by all who knew him, arid by generations yet unborn. 

While he left so much of his heart in the other hemisphere, 
he gratefully gave himself up to the new mission, content to 
change the romantic scenery of the Pacific, and those happy 
voyages in the " Undine " and " Southern Cross," for the smoky 
atmosphere and dingy sky of the " Black Country." There 



298 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

was ever within him a force of divine power which enabled him 
with heroic magnitude of mind to consecrate his whole being 
to that work to which God's providence was pleased to call 
him ; and wherever he was, whether at Eton or Cambridge, 
whether a student at college or a curate at Windsor, whether 
as the first Bishop of New Zealand or the ninetieth Bishop of 
Lichfield, he was felt to be a power in the world. It will not 
be out of place here to notice that his life of hardship in the 
mission diocese was passed as an abstainer from alcoholic liq- 
uors ; and, feeling the amount of injury done to the natives by 
the introduction of strong drink, the cause of temperance had 
his cordial support. 

Space would fail to allow of more than a glance at his labors 
on behalf of canal boatmen, for whom he had a floating church 
built; of his love of home mission work; of his endeavors to 
promote education; and of his efforts in aid of church exten- 
sion. The peer and the pauper, the begrimed pitman and 
the book-learned student, the sick and suffering, the convict, 
the outcast, and the fallen, have all received his ministrations, 
and in trouble he was the most acceptable of comforters. Well 
might Mr. Gladstone say that the only term that could convey 
to your mind the true character of the man was " noble." 

"His was the blameless life, the kindly soul, 
The honest heart that ever loved the right ; 
God rest the worker in his final goal. 
The winter snows fall lightly o'er his breast, 
The pure in heart has now a spotless shroud ; 
God rest the worker, — he is now at rest. 
No longer ill or cloud 
In the •-' far land of lidit.' " 




GRACE DARLING. 



GRACE DARLING. 299 



GRACE DARLING. 

[Born 1S16. Died 1842.] 

IT is seldom, we believe, that self-sacrifice and sterling 
bravery, as exhibited by the life-boat crews on the Durham 
and Northumberland coasts, can be excelled elsewhere. The 
shore for many miles lies unusually exposed to the terrific 
action of the fiercest gales ; and the sea, lashed into wild fury,- 
breaks upon it with intense violence and the voice of thunder. 
The dangers of the locality are considerably increased by the 
rocky nature of the coast, and the extreme difficulty which 
often attends the efforts of those in command of vessels to 
enter the few small rivers, which are almost the only harbors. 
At all points, and even when the sea at other places is smooth 
and calm, serious casualties occur. Vessels become helpless 
in the storm, and drift before the north or northeast wind, 
falling at length upon sunken rocks which abound; and, prob- 
ably before human aid can be given, both crew and passengers 
perish. History abounds with thrilling adventure and miracu- 
lous escapes which have been witnessed in these regions ; and 
its golden charm encircles one particular spot, which, but for 
the events of a few short hours, might never have been con- 
sidered worthy of even a passing thought. In casting the 
eye over the map, and tracing the course of the east-coast 
railway-route from London to Edinburgh, the traveller will 
remember the features already pointed out, as well as the 
gigantic development of rock into what are known as the 
Fame (or Feme) Islands, which lie about five miles from shore, 
opposite Bamborough Castle and Belford, and south of the 
romantic Holy Island and Old Law. The voyager who has 
sailed in their vicinity may also bear testimony to the aversion 
with which the captains of coast-bound vessels regard these 



300 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

demons of the deep, as well as to the force of the tide in the 
channels formed by the islets. The group consists of twenty- 
five, which may be said to be rock itself raised above the level 
of the tide, and their surface is destitute of vegetation, being 
barren, waste, and lonesome; yet, notwithstanding, they appear 
to us clothed in curious garments of legendary lore concern- 
ing hermits and ruins, and enchanted castles are celebrated in 
song and story without limit. 

In order to avert, at least, some of the dangers of these 
rocky cliffs which constantly threatened mariners, a lighthouse 
was erected on the outer, or Longstone Island ; and this, when 
the present century was yet young, became tenanted by a man 
named Darling, — a name destined to be famous in the esti- 
mation of all who value a self-sacrificing spirit. Here William 
Darling made a comfortable home for his wife and eight chil- 
dren, and in the long leisure hours permitted to him he culti- 
vated it to such perfection as few of its class seldom reach. 
Possessing a good library, valuing knowledge, and carefully 
cherishing the habit of thoroughly mastering all the details, 
he was a fitting tutor to his young family, in whose minds 
he assiduously instilled the essential rudiments of an earnest 
religious as well as secular education. Although professing 
with the Established Church, he was said to be puritanical in 
his principles, rigorously excluding from his home cards, dice, 
foolish games, and everything that was likely to influence the 
mind against sound thought and the essentials of a good and 
blameless life. For his undeviating holy example and precept 
his children have repeatedly expressed themselves thankful; 
and the picture of their home is a pleasant one, — a family so 
united that there was no room for conceit or modern make- 
believe to enter and destroy the Bible rule of showing honor 
to the parents whom they loved as their life. 

William Darling was also brave as well as virtuous. He was 
acquainted with dangers from his youth, for he lived with his 
father, who was keeper of the light on Staples Island, a post of 
peril ; and when transferred to Longstone he was ever ready 
to go off in his boat and bring home the sufferers so often 






GRACE DARLING. 301 

thrown on the cruel rocks by the merciless sea. His sons 
partook of his courage, and shared with him the perils; and 
many lives have been thus spared to spread abroad the intelli- 
gence of their goodness, and that of Mrs. Darling and her 
daughters, in the care and attention bestowed upon them under 
these distressing circumstances. 

In this secluded home the subject of this notice was born, 
November 15, 18 16. She soon became an engaging child, 
and, as years flew by, her desire for knowledge delighted her 
father when she joined the others in their schoolroom, the 
lighthouse lantern. Devoted to her parents to an extent which 
few are, she seldom cared to leave home, and it is said she was 
never but one night from it up to the time of her illness. Her 
leisure hours were often spent in exploring the island for 
specimens of natural history, in which science she became 
proficient, Often, too, had she seen her father and brothers 
launch their boat on the stormy waves to rescue some poor 
sufferers from certain destruction, and, with her mother, would 
watch in an agony of suspense until their return, when their 
help was needed to revive the unfortunate people wrecked near 
their home. 

At length Grace was left alone with her parents ; her sisters 
were married and dispersed, and the brothers were in quest of 
their living in other places. She was now about twenty-two 
years of age, possessing remarkable but well-moderated buoy- 
ancy of spirits, and was highly appreciated by those who knew 
her for her good sense and mental qualities, all of which, no 
doubt, added charms to her naturally pleasant countenance, 
which many under cause for devotion and admiration would 
pronounce beautiful. Her hitherto quiet life was now inter- 
rupted by an event which made her name famous ; but it is 
recorded to her lasting credit that she remained as humble- 
minded as before it happened. On the 5th of September, 
1838, without previous indications, a storm arose suddenly 
towards night, and continued hourly to increase, until even the 
minds of the occupants of the lighthouse were disturbed. 
They reluctantly retired to rest ; but the howling of the storm 



302 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

and the roar of the mighty billows without were portentous of 
coming evil, and they listened with eager and anxious ears. 
Grace was, of the three, the most intensely excited ; and just 
before daybreak she thought she could hear the shrieking of 
human voices above the noise of the tempest. Soon she heard 
them repeated, and ran to her father and besought him to 
hasten to the relief of the sufferers. They reached the boat. 
Grace leaped in and seized the oars ; and it is said the stout- 
hearted, good man for once felt himself unequal to the task ; 
but, seeing the determined attitude of his daughter, and roused 
by her importunate appeals, he launched the boat. Mrs. Darl- 
ing, trembling with fear, stood on the rock and watched the 
boat and its occupants as it was tossed upon the mighty waves ; 
and well might she quail with such a sight before her. Mightily 
and dexterously are the oars pulled, while the frail boat is lifted 
high up to the heavens, and next engulfed in the great gap- 
ing valley of the wave : then again it totters and reels ; but 
skill and wisdom are there, and these, directed by an impres- 
sive evidence of the presence of God, are sufficient. Brave 
William Darling, by an effort at once both dangerous and des- 
perate, and made in conjunction with a preconcerted arrange- 
ment with Grace, leaped upon the rock, and at the same 
moment the boat is rowed away into the boisterous waters to 
avoid being broken to pieces, and there skilfully caused to 
ride as proudly and gracefully as a bird. Grace had never had 
occasion to assist in managing the boat in such a case before ; 
and the fact thus renders the event unparalleled in the an- 
nals of history, not only for her intrepidity, but for the calm- 
ness and faithful devotion to the cause of suffering humanity. 
Eventually the survivors of the wreck — nine in number — 
were rescued ; and one, an old sailor, when he beheld the boat, 
manned only by two persons, come to the rescue, could not 
restrain his tears, more especially evincing his gratitude when 
he saw the delicate and youthful female who had risked her 
life in that awful storm. Among the sufferers was a lady, who 
had sunk on the rocks exhausted by her injuries and insensible, 
clasping the lifeless bodies of her two children, who had been 



GRACE DARLING. 303 

killed by the waves buffeting and bruising them on the stones. 
These were taken to the Longstone Light and carefully tended, 
until their condition was such as to enable them to be removed 
safely. 

The ill-fated vessel was the " Forfarshire," a steamer belonging 
to Dundee, and sailing to that port from Hull. From evidence 
subsequently obtained it was proved that the boilers were de- 
fective, and that the captain, although fully aware of a leakage 
in one of them, still persevered in sailing. The pressure of 
steam tore away the frail stopping, and the escape of water soon 
put out the fires. Notwithstanding, he would not then put into 
port, which he might have done with ease and safety. They 
passed Fame Islands at six o'clock on the evening of the 5th 
of September, and made Berwick Harbor; but, the storm hav- 
ing reached almost its height, the vessel having no steam re- 
fused to answer the helm, and drifted like a log southward before 
the wind until they struck upon the rocks. The crew managed 
to lower a boat in which nine persons escaped, and were 
picked up next morning about eight o'clock, after being ex- 
posed about thirty hours, and were taken to Shields by a pass- 
ing ship. The wreck was observed from North Sunderland, 
and a boat was manned by seven men, one of whom was the 
brother of Grace Darling ; but when they reached the wreck 
it was already fast disappearing, and only dead bodies were 
found. The violence of the storm being unabated, they were 
compelled to take shelter for two days in Longstone Light, 
with the sufferers already rescued by Grace and her father. 

The public mind was soon aroused by the. heroic conduct of 
Grace, and the nation was determined to do her honor. She 
received a handsome recognition from the Queen conveyed by 
the Duchess of Northumberland, who summoned her and her 
father to Alnwick Castle, and afterwards extended to her an 
amount of solicitude which told more plainly than words how 
the act of the simple maiden had been appreciated. Subscrip- 
tions also flowed in rapidly for her benefit, and her deed and 
name were immortalized in verse ; besides which base attempts 
were made, in the hope of personal gain, to induce her to 



304 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

become a public gazing-stock. She indignantly refused to 
leave the retirement of her home, and wisely continued beside 
the parents she loved. She was naturally delicate, and after 
some time signs of indisposition were evident, when she was 
removed to the mainland for change of air and scene, the 
Duchess of Northumberland taking an active part in minister- 
ing to the wants of the invalid. All means were, however, 
fruitless; for that cruel disease consumption had already made 
serious havoc with her constitution, and she died peacefully at 
Bamborough, October 20, 1842. 

In our notice of the conduct of this truly heroic girl it is 
out of place to attempt laudation ; to her frame of mind it was 
distasteful when living, and no less dishonoring to her memory 
now she is passed from us. The simple recital of her deed, 
the embodiment of courage, faith, and self-sacrifice for the 
good of others, is enough ; and we are sure that, while Eng- 
land can produce fathers and mothers willing to train their 
children as Grace Darling was trained, her name will not stand 
alone in the record of noble deeds. 



HENRY HAVELOCK. 

[Born April 5, 1795. Died Nov. 24, 1857.] 

/^\N one of the last days of November, 1857, the army quit- 
^S ted Lucknow. Death, that grim veteran of the Pale 
Horse, rode invisible before the column, pointing with ghastly 
satisfaction to the trophy of his prowess that accompanied it. 
The sword fallen from his nerveless fingers, his ears forever 
deaf to the call of battle, Havelock moved onwards for the last 
time among the heroes he had so often led to victory. At 
Alumbagh, a few miles outside the city, the army halted. Ex- 
cept as they clasped to their hearts the little ones found in 
rescued Lucknow, there were but two occasions during the 




HENRY HAVELOCK. 



HENRY HAVELOCK. 305 

Mutiny when those soldiers were known to weep, — once when 
beside that hideous well at Cawnpore officers and men sat 
down together, and cutting tresses from the heads of the vic- 
tims counted the threads, and swore with tears and sobs that 
for every hair a Sepoy should die ; the second time when in 
the " Beautiful Garden " of the princes of Oude the farewell 
that best befits a hero thundered over a new-made grave, and 
with sad hearts the bravest of the brave turned away and left 
the savior of Lucknow to his rest. He lies there still, or what 
portion of him is mortal ; and in the wreath that hangs above 
his burial-place the amaranth mingles with the laurel. For he 
was not only a soldier, but a Christian ; and even when most 
earnestly busied in winning back to Britain her Indian empire, 
never neglected to seek additions to the kingdom of his Lord. 
He had equals in the art of ruling a battle. The indomitable 
Campbell and the chivalrous Outram could, no less than him- 
self, teach Highlander and Sikh how to conquer: it is the 
peculiar glory of Havelock that with another discipline than 
that of earth he fitted his veterans to die. 

There has seldom lived a great man who had not reason to 
speak with reverence of his mother. Havelock was no excep- 
tion to the rule. She who gave him birth gave him also an ear- 
nestness of religious belief that was too deeply rooted in his heart 
not to bring forth life-long fruit. When, after a vain attempt 
to accustom himself to the uncongenial yoke of the law, the 
good offices of Baron Altern made him second lieutenant in a 
rifle regiment, dim longings for a purer renown than glory in 
arms can confer already haunted him. Eight years later he 
sailed for India. As day after day the crowded troop-ship 
moved slowly onward through the desolate grandeur of the 
Atlantic, fervid aspirations were burning ever higher and higher 
in the heart of one among the officers whom it carried into a 
tropical exile. Havelock had made his choice. Henceforth 
and until death he would fight the battle of his Lord. He 
knew well the difficulty of the work before him. Service 
given to Satan was in those days lightly thought of in the 
, British army ; but to do the work of God was to insure the 



306 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

setting of a black mark against one's name that might effec- 
tually bar promotion. The soldier-missionary, however, had 
counted the cost. The baton of a field-marshal would have 
been as nothing in the balance against the duty he owed to 
God. 

It was during the Burmese War, and at the taking of Ran- 
goon, that Havelock first saw a shot fired in earnest. Biogra- 
phers have preserved the memory of a scene that followed. 
They narrate how, when this populous Eastern city had fallen, 
an English officer, wandering one evening among its barbaric 
splendors, was amazed, in passing a pagoda, to catch the words 
of a well-known psalm. He traced the singing to the chamber 
of the pagoda from whence it proceeded, and looked in. 
There sat Havelock, Bible and hymn-book before him, a hun- 
dred of his men for audience, and the glare of half a dozen 
lamps placed in the huge lap of a Burmese idol giving light 
for the diffusion of the light of truth. It was thus that our 
modern Greatheart ever acted. During the hardships of the 
most arduous campaign he found time to give Religion her 
due, and when a battle was impending he prepared his men 
for it with exhortation and prayer. And the men responded 
nobly to the noble exertions of their leader. Their behavior 
in camp and field won golden opinions even from those most 
hostile to Havelock and his system. On one occasion a cer- 
tain regiment was ordered out to repel a surprise that the 
enemy had attempted. The general who had directed the 
movement learned that the troops he wished to execute it were 
drunk. " Out with Havelock's saints," cried he ; " they are 
never drunk, and Havelock is always ready." A few minutes, 
and the terrible charge of the " saints " had scattered the Orien- 
tals opposed to them. 

Thus proving, as Cromwell had proved before him, that the 
discipline of strong religious feeling does but render troops 
more formidable in the day of battle, Havelock fought on 
through many arduous years. Returning to Bombay in May, 
1857, from his successful Persian campaign, the nightmare 
tidings of the Mutiny broke on him in their full horror. Delhi 



HENRY HAVELOCK. 307 

was lost, and Lucknow besieged ; and at Cawnpore a handful 
of Englishmen, shut within intrenchments that a man might 
walk over, defended their wives and children from the murder- 
ous wretches led by Nana Sahib, — that most finished devil 
whom hell ever sent forth. To the relief of these last Have- 
lock instantly hastened. 

England has no more glowing page in her annals than was 
furnished during the next few months. Sharp and terrible 
were the pens employed on it, and it was written with the 
blood of heroes. "Take that battery" was the order by which 
Havelock sought to test the mettle of his Highlanders in the 
last battle outside Cawnpore. They answered well to the sum- 
mons, the granite battalions. The bayonet became on that 
day a weapon more dreaded of the sepoys than any cannon, 
and the sombre silence with which the tartaned warriors moved 
to victory had something in it that, like death, was deep and 
terrible. The day lost, Nana Sahib took his hellish revenge. 
It is twenty-one years ago, and still the tragedy is fresh in every 
mind, and our hearts become as flame at thought of its details, 
— the neatly ranged rows of children's shoes filled with bleed- 
ing feet ; the women who, after undergoing outrage not to be 
described, lay heaped in that hideous well. England heard 
with a stern satisfaction how Havelock, in obedience to orders, 
blew from the mouths of his cannon the worst of the murderers 
whom he caught. Eager at once to rescue and to punish, the 
avengers fought, lion-like, on to Lucknow. That garrison might 
yet be saved. 

Nothing like the scene of its deliverance has ever been 
imagined by any writer of romance. The shout of rapture 
torn from the Greeks of Xenophon when they felt in their nos- 
trils the salt freshness of the sea was as silence in the sight of 
Heaven compared with the cry of rescued Lucknow. The 
moment, the supreme moment, in which the frenzied inhabitants 
first caught the wild strains of Havelock's bagpipes coming 
nearer and clearer as his Highlanders slowly but surely made a 
road with the bayonet through the smoking suburbs, — every 
man a lion in his rage as the horrors of the siege presented 



30S OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

themselves to his eyes, — that moment of hope and suspense 
our own Whittier has thus described : — 

" Oh, they listened, dumb and breathless, 

And they caught the sound at last; 
Faint and far beyond the Goomtee 

Rose and fell the piper's blast ! 
Then a burst of wild thanksgiving 

Mingled woman's voice and man's : 
God be praised ! — the march of Havelock ! 

The pipi.ig of the clans ! " 

The rebels held the suburbs ; the British, the centre of the 
city. Through streets that literally blazed, so horrible was the 
fire from every door and window, the slender column of relief 
pushed steadily forward, Havelock on horseback at its head, 
and calm as if on parade. Leaving General Neill and a third 
of their number dead in these fatal streets, the deliverers 
came at length to the fortified portion of the city, and were 
seen by the besieged. The moon looked down, and lighted 
the steps of the women and children rushing to meet their 
deliverers. A few minutes and the single remaining barricade 
had disappeared. Then, while the roar of the rebel cannon 
and musketry still came sullenly from the outskirts of the city, 
the fierce voice of the pibroch shrilled forth, and to the notes 
of their own beloved music the Highlanders entered into the 
presence of those for whom their blood had been spilt. With 
emotions almost too deep for utterance the sunburnt warriors 
snatched babe after babe to their breasts, and kissing them 
blessed the God of battles, whose strong right arm had guided 
them on to victory ere it was too late. 

Two months later, Havelock died. He was spared just long 
enough to witness the second relief of Lucknow, and, Outram 
at his side, clasp hands with Colin Campbell under a storm of 
fire. To say that all England mourned for him is no figure of 
rhetoric, but the simple truth. His life's work ended right 
nobly; he lies there in the scene of his triumphs. Christian 
at once and hero, can we doubt that there was prepared a 



HENRY HAVELOCK. 309 

reward exceeding great for one whose deeds shine bright as the 
star of the Bath that glittered on his breast ? 

The lessons of his life are few and plain. The mental intri- 
cacies that convert biographers into analysts were absent from 
the character of Havelock. Patient and self-contained, he 
pressed ever towards a mark. We should search the history of 
his career in vain for any of those wayward bursts of glowing 
and delicate emotions, the offspring of natures in the highest 
degree affectionate and sensitive, and which cast a strangely 
tender light on names otherwise too often dark and stained. 
Havelock's spirit was as keen as his sword. At the call of 
duty he spared neither others nor himself. The better fitted 
was he to deal with that terrible crisis when the fate of the 
Indian Empire trembled in the balance. It has been said that 
a trace of coldness is apparent in this stainless spirit. Just so 
does a trace of coldness repel us when our eyes rest for the 
first time on the stainless summit of Mont Blanc. But as the 
full majesty of that awful mountain by degrees dawns on us, 
as glacier piles itself on glacier, and crag after crag towers, 
snow-covered, above its neighbors, like mighty avalanches 
poising themselves in the moment of their fall, we feel our- 
selves on the threshold of one of Nature's chief cathedrals, 
and are spell-bound with admiration and awe. There is some- 
thing of this sublimity in the character of Havelock. He 
towers above ordinary men ; but it is as Mont Blanc lifts itself 
above Greenwich Hill, — he goes a great way nearer heaven. 
And learning how this hero lived, contemplating, above all, the 
serene courage of his death, we turn from the spectacle with 
feelings as though Havelock were an .incarnation of the spirit 
of duty, sent upon earth to teach men what priceless virtues 
are fortitude and faith. 



3IO OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



GEORGE MOORE. 

[Born April 9, 1S06. Died Nov. 21, 1876.] 

FEW lives can compare, for earnestness of purpose and 
uncompromising sense of duty, with that of George 
Moore, the merchant and philanthropist. A self-made man, 
he was entirely free from that narrowness of mind which so 
often accompanies hardly won success. His life was an epit- 
ome of noble deeds, of work conscientiously carried out from 
the highest motives, and having for its object the welfare of 
others. He aptly illustrated his own saying that " sympathy is 
the great secret of life ; " for the help that he so abundantly 
gave in money was far outweighed by the deep feeling for 
the misery of others which dictated it. He was benevolent 
from principle, and his charities were as judicious as they were 
wide-spread. 

George Moore was born at Mealsgate, in Cumberland, upon 
the 9th of April, 1806. His father was a Cumberland " states- 
man," of rank equivalent to that of a yeoman in other parts of 
England. His ancestors had lived upon their own land in the 
parish of Torpenhow, near the market-town of Wigton, for 
more than three hundred years. George was but six years old 
when his mother died. She was laid out in the parlor; and the 
boy, running in from the fields, first realized his loss when, 
finding her inattentive to his call, he touched her face. The 
shock was so great that during his long life he never lost the 
terrible impression of death his mind then received. Of his 
father George always spoke in terms of respect, and frequently 
declared that he owed his own upright character to the influ- 
ence of his parent's integrity and love of truth. 

The lad was sent to his first school at the age of eight ; it 




GEORGE MOORE. 



GEORGE MOORE. 31 1 

was two miles distant from Mealsgate, and the education pro- 
vided was of the most miserable description. The master, 
whom the boys nicknamed Blackbird Wilson, from his habit of 
singing, was an illiterate old man, much addicted to drinking. 
The little knowledge he conveyed to the boys he put into them 
by brute force. George Moore pithily remarks, " The wonder 
is that he did not break our skulls ; perhaps he calculated upon 
their thickness." At the age of twelve George was sent to a 
finishing school at Blennerhasset, but there he remained only 
one quarter, for which his father, paid eight shillings. The 
master was a superior man, and for the first time the boy 
realized the value of learning and began to regret his own 
ignorance. The idea of remaining a mere farm-laborer became 
distasteful to him ; he determined to begin the battle of life 
for himself. 

The best opening that presented itself was a small one. He 
was apprenticed to a draper in Wigton, named Messenger. 
The first two years of his life there were made miserable by 
the tyranny of an elder apprentice. It had been arranged that 
he should sleep at his master's house, and take his meals at the 
Half-Moon Inn, near by, -*- an injudicious arrangement which 
brought him into contact with the lowest and most depraved 
characters. When, after a time, a young boy was placed under 
him, — an apprentice who had the command of money, — the 
two lads amused themselves with gambling, betting, and drinking. 
The philanthropist always said that his apprenticeship would 
not bear reflection. Fortunately for George's future, his gam- 
bling came to the knowledge of his master, who threatened him 
with instant dismissal, and was only induced to relent upon the 
intercession of a friend. This brought the lad to a sense of his 
folly; he entered his name at a night school, and determined 
to devote his leisure to education. 

When the four years of his apprenticeship were passed, 
George, in spite of much opposition from his father and favor- 
ite sister Mary, determined to seek his fortune in London; 
and at length, obtaining a reluctant consent, he started for 
London in the coach leaving Carlisle, and with his hair-trunk, 



312 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

containing his possessions and what to him appeared the large 
sum of thirty pounds, was set down in London upon Maunday 
Thursday, 1825. He was provided with introductions to cer- 
tain Cumberland men in the metropolis, and anticipated little 
difficulty in finding employment. 

But discouragement was to be his portion. No one was 
anxious to procure the services of the raw, uncouth country 
lad. Day succeeded day, and ill-success attended every effort. 
He could not endure to send such bad news to his father ; he 
waited, hoping against hope. At last despair of obtaining 
employment in London took possession of him. He deter-, 
mined to go to America. His mind made up, he called to say 
good-by to one of the young men employed in Swan and 
Edgar's, when he learned that a Mr. Ray, of Flint, Ray, & Co., 
had been asking after him. He at once hurried to see him, and 
Mr. Ray, himself a Cumberland man, engaged him, probably 
out of pity, and because he knew something of his family. 
He was to commence with a salary of £30 a year. 

He had much to contend with. His north-country speech 
and awkward manners provoked the mirth of his fellows in the 
warehouse ; but he brought his strong will to bear upon both, 
and in a short time had proved himself so energetic, willing, 
and obliging as to gain the approval of his employers. 

When he had been six months at Mr. Ray's the romance of 
his life commenced. He saw a bright eyed little girl, his mas- 
ter's daughter, and at once decided that if ever he married she 
should be his wife. The ridicule such an avowal brought down 
upon the uncouth Cumberland lad may well be imagined. 
But George was proof against ridicule. The idea once started 
became the ruling motive of his life. It saved him from much 
temptation; it restrained and purified him. 

He might have remained years in Mr. Ray's employment 
but for a false accusation of theft, which nearly resulted in his 
ruin and which made him resolve to leave. Through the kind- 
ness of Mr. Ray he was engaged by the firm of Fisher, Stroud, 
and Robinson, of Watling Street, then the first lace-house in 
the city, at a salary of £40 a year. 



GEORGE MOORE. 313 

George had many things still to learn ; but his indomitable 
resolution overcame all the difficulties which met him, and he 
gained the respect of all in the office. He was shortly pro- 
moted, and after a time was made town traveller for the firm. 
Then it was that his great qualities were recognized. The 
amount of work he accomplished was amazing, and after an 
experience of eighteen months his employers decided that he 
was worthy of a wider field of action. He was made country 
traveller. His success in obtaining orders was so great, and 
his enthusiasm for his work so unbounded, that he became 
known among his associates as the Napoleon of Watling Street. 
After six months' success as a country traveller he was sent to 
Ireland, to see what could be done for the firm there. At 
Dublin he met Groucock, the traveller who had hitherto mo- 
nopolized the lace trade, but who now found himself entirely 
outdone by his energetic competitor. He therefore determined 
to come to terms, and offered George Moore the high salary of 
,£500 to travel for his firm instead of Fisher's. George refused 
to leave his employers unless for a partnership ; and Groucock 
to secure his services agreed to his terms, and in 1830, at the 
age of twenty-three, George Moore entered the firm of Grou- 
cock and Copestake as junior partner. 

The first year of his new life was not very satisfactory in its 
results, but it was succeeded by a period of unprecedented suc- 
cess. George Moore worked indefatigably. Sixteen hours a 
day were usually devoted to business, and he generally re- 
mained up two nights a week. One great help in his career 
was the little need 'he had of sleep, and the faculty he possessed 
of sleeping at will. His life suited him ; it was full of interest, 
variety, and adventure. At the end of three years his services 
were too valuable to be dispensed with. He was made equal 
partner, with a third share in the profits. 

He was now in a position to marry. Bent upon the realiza- 
tion of his romance, he told his secret, and offered himself to 
the young lady he had so long loved. He was refused. This, 
the keenest disappointment of his life, could not discourage 
him. He threw himself still more ardently into his work, and 



314 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

waited for another five years. Then he tried his fortune once 
more. This time he was successful, and upon the 12th of 
August, 1840, he married Eliza Ray. 

A few years later, by the advice of his physicians, he visited 
America. It was after his return to London that his philan- 
thropical efforts began. He established a lace factory at Not- 
tingham, where nearly two hundred women were employed ; 
and it became one of the cares of his life to attend to their 
comfort and needs. 

His interest in the life of commercial travellers led to the 
foundation of the schools for their orphans, which to the end 
of his life he watched with the keenest interest. Not content 
with giving money, which his increasing wealth made easy, he 
spent much of his time in canvassing for the various charitable 
institutions which came under his notice. His early philan- 
thropical efforts arose from the natural benevolence of his 
heart; but an illness which overtook him in 1851 awoke him to 
a sense of his own short-comings, and after his recovery a 
marked difference was observable in the method of his charity. 
He no longer acted upon impulse, but from deeply religious 
motives. He was no longer content to give bodily help to 
others, but concerned himself greatly about their spiritual wel- 
fare and needs. 

From this time the history of his life becomes a record of 
noble deeds. It is impossible to attempt an enumeration of 
his charitable undertakings. All the energy of his nature was 
devoted, first, to finding out misery, and then to alleviating it. 
He spent an immense amount of time and money in schemes 
for the improvement of education in his native county, found- 
ing and endowing schools, and promoting competitive examina- 
tions. Much of the good he accomplished was done secretly. 
He privately paid fees for twenty years to enable men and 
women who ought to have been married to be united in matri- 
mony. He sought out the cases of poor clergymen with large 
families and insufficient incomes, and sent anonymous Christ- 
mas boxes to them. Refuges for the homeless and fallen, 
reformatories for those leaving prisons, hospitals, convalescent 




THEOBALD MATHEW. 



THEOBALD MATHEW. 315 

homes, schemes for boarding out pauper children, all in turn 
claimed his attention. 

In 1 87 1, during the terrible siege of Paris, George Moore 
was one of the most active members of the Mansion House 
Relief Fund, and was selected to go to Paris, as soon as the 
gates were open, to superintend the distribution of relief. His 
heart was wrung with the terrible sights he witnessed. Upon 
his return his rest was disturbed by his recollection of the hor- 
rors of the famine-stricken city. He paid another visit after 
the sacrileges of the Commune. The Communists had spared 
the warehouses of the Englishman who had been so active in 
succoring them. 

The death of the greatest philanthropist of modern times 
was the result of an accident. He was thrown down by a run- 
away horse, while speaking with a friend in the High Street of 
Carlisle. Falling upon his right side, his head struck heavily 
upon the ground. He was at once carried to the Grey Goat 
Inn, the same at which, fifty-two years earlier, he had slept the 
night before he started in the Carlisle coach for London. 
There in a small back room he breathed his last, upon the 21st 
of November, 1876, twenty-four hours after the accident. To 
quote from his. epitaph, he was " a yeoman's son, not born to 
wealth ; but by ability and industry he gained it, and ever used 
it as a steward of God for the furtherance of all good works." 



THEOBALD MATHEW. 

[Born Oct. 10, 1790. Died Dec. 5, 1856.] 

ON the 10th of April, 1838, Father Mathew headed a weak 
and inefficient "body "of three — a clergyman of the 
English Church, a Unitarian, and a Quaker; grand pioneers 
they were of a great reformation — in the city of Cork. Two 
years afterwards his temperance troops numbered nearly three 



316 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

millions, — children, women, and men. The words he had 
uttered when he joined " the three " were these : " Here goes 
in the name of God ! " He signed their pledge and began the 
work. 

In " Ireland : its Scenery and Character," Mr. S. C. Hall writes 
thus of Father Mathew and his great work: "The good priest 
was not young when that sword of salvation was drawn in the 
cause of God. He was remarkably active and energetic. His 
personal appearance aided his mission. Rather above than 
under the middle size; not stout, but not thin; the expression 
of his countenance was indescribably sweet and winning; the 
features were sharply cut and prominent (with the character- 
istics that are usually supposed to accompany good descent, 
— ' good blood,' — his progenitors were of the aristocracy, 
although they bore the bar-sinister on their shield) ; he might 
have been called handsome, but he had a beauty of person 
that can never exist without beauty of soul ; the mind spoke 
in the face ; it was the language of gentleness, patience, en- 
durance, tenderness, loving-kindness, trustfulness, and hopeful 
affection, such as I have never seen so strongly marked in any 
one of the thousands of distinguished and good men on whom 
I have looked. I could have accepted him as an embodiment 
of ' the beloved apostle ; ' and I am very sure he was one of 
the earth-darlings of his Lord ! 

" It would require a volume- to describe Ireland prior to the 
advent of the apostle. It is among the most marvellous of 
modern miracles that the wine and whiskey drinkers of the 
1 better ' classes were led to reason and reflect upon, and 
ultimately were converted by, what they witnessed as to the 
effects of total abstinence in their poorer neighbors and 
dependants. No doubt, other influences were at work, and 
largely contributed to induce temperance among those who 
were out of Father Mathew's reach; but it was not until 1840 
that temperance was considered, in Ireland, respectable, and 
drunkenness degrading; and that was after the good priest 
had carried conviction to high and low. I maintain, speak- 
ing from actual knowledge and experience, that the change 



THEOBALD MATHEW. 317 

which a very short time wrought in the habits of the upper 
orders was as certainly the effect of Father Mathew's teaching, 
as it is that he converted millions of the lower classes from 
drunkenness to sobriety. 

" The results that followed were shown by certain Govern- 
ment ' returns.' I may barely allude to them. But it was easy 
to calculate the immense saving to the State, as a consequence 
of the absence of crimes and the scarcity of prosecutions. 
Compare 1837 w1 ^ 1841. In the one year there were 247 
homicides, in the other 105; robberies, 725 — 257; robberies 
of arms, 246 — in. In 1839, the number of 'committals' 
was 12,000; in 1845, the number barely passed 7,000. In 
1839,66 persons were sentenced to death; in 1842, the num- 
ber was 25, and in 1846, 14. In 1839,916 persons were sen- 
tenced to transportation; in 1846, 504. And as to the duty 
on spirits, the 'loss' to the revenue was large. In 1839, 
duty was paid on more than 12,000,000 gallons of whiskey, to 
say nothing of that which paid no duty. In 1843 and 1844, 
the amount was much less than half. Naturally and necessarily 
the State gained more than it lost, indirectly and directly. 
The material prospect of Ireland was augmented in a hundred 
ways ; and the money saved, when not laid by, was expended 
in such manufactured luxuries as warm clothing, feather beds, 
' stocks of furniture,' tea and coffee and sugar. No doubt 
vested interests were terribly interfered with ; distillers were 
ruined ; among others, the brother of Theobald Mathew, who 
followed that accursed calling. ' Change your trade,' wrote 
the priest to the distiller, ' and turn your premises into facto- 
ries for flour.' Landlords who had let their houses to publi- 
cans had to lower their rents or do without any ; the doctors 
had little to do, and the lawyers less ; faction fights became 
rarities ; fairs and ' patterns ' were made ' lonesome ; ' emis- 
saries from secret societies were in despair, — Father Mathew 
' proclaimed ' them as ' full of danger, of vice, of iniquity.' 

" His work was immense — that is a poor word to describe 
his labors — from the day he began it to that of his removal. 
Within two years after the memorable 10th of April, 1838, 



318 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Father Mathew had travelled through every district of Ireland, 
had held meetings in all the towns and in many of the villages, 
and the pledge had been taken by upwards of two millions 
and a half of the population. That was not all : he visited 
England and Scotland, and spent two years working among his 
countrymen in the United States. In truth, his labor was 
superhuman ; the good he did, incalculable. At length his 
physical strength gave way; ' the brain o'erwrought,' the con- 
tinual toil, travelling often night and day, taking little rest, 
especially the perpetual anxiety which those only with restricted 
means and great needs can rightly estimate, told terribly upon 
his constitution. There had been no self-indulgence to weaken, 
no luxurious ease to create rust; his was that precious gift, — 
a healthy mind in a healthy body; and so he was enabled to 
do the work, not of two, but of ten. He said he would ' die 
in harness,' and he did. Even after a paralytic seizure he gave 
the pledge to thousands ; and when he had succumbed to an 
attack of apoplexy and lay on his death-bed, he could hear the 
penitent, and with crippled hands make the sign of the cross ! 

" Alas ! the blessing of temperance in Ireland is but a mem- 
ory; the people of Ireland have forgotten its apostle and mar- 
tyr, and the curse is as foul and fatal to-day as it was before 
that memorable morning of April, 1838. Not quite: it never 
can be so ; for drunkenness instead of a glory has become a 
reproach. That is, at all events, the bequest of Father Mathew 
to his country and to mankind, the value of which time can- 
not lessen. The drunkard now, instead of brawling in triumph 
all the way from the public to his home, skulks through by- 
ways, and prefers that his neighbors do not see him. A gentle- 
man drunk is now as rare a sight in Ireland as it is in England. 
What pictures I might draw, to illustrate Ireland as I knew Ire- 
land sixty years ago ! The evils of intemperance and the 
advantages of temperance have been shown in many ways. 
A ban has been put upon the vice ; authors do not describe it 
as venial or jovial or ' glorious ; ' artists no longer class it 
with the picturesque ; the pulpit and the platform assail it with 
the language of abhorrence; it is execrated as the mighty 



THEOBALD MATHEW. 319 

impediment to social and moral progress ; while the religious 
' of all denominations ' beat it down as the barrier that out- 
rages nature, leads from God, and infers a social hell here and 
the hell of remorse hereafter. Yes ! another generation will 
find it hard to credit, and be very reluctant to believe, that a 
dozen of the representatives of Irish men, women, and chil- 
dren in Parliament have striven, by means monstrous and 
wicked, to continue and uphold THE CURSE ! I will not write 
of these Irish representatives in words I should of myself ap- 
pl^ to them; I will rather use. the language 'Father Mathew' 
would have used, — ' God have mercy on them and forgive 
them ! ' " 



IV. 
PHILOSOPHY AND PATRIOTISM. 




SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 



SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 

[Born 1642. Died 1727.] 

IN a lecture on the Growth of Hypotheses, which Professor 
Whewell gave some years since at the Royal Institution, he 
traced the gradual development of the theory of gravitation 
from its crude beginnings to its ultimate form. The greatest 
achievements in science are seldom, if ever, the result of the 
labor of an individual mind. The most important truths have 
generally been dimly foreseen, and perhaps partially formu- 
lated, by pioneers in science, whose glory is afterwards eclipsed 
by the greater lustre of the master mind who grasps a subject 
in its totality, and makes one section of human inquiry a lucidly 
defined and finished piece of work. In that lecture the learned 
professor showed how the hypothesis was gradually approached 
by the mental steps of Kepler, Galileo, Borelli, and Descartes, 
but, nevertheless, that it was left comparatively chaotic till New- 
ton brooded over it and said, " Let there be light, and there 
was light." 

When every abatement, however, has been made from New- 
ton's share in the working out of the theory of universal gravi- 
tation, there yet remains a titanic achievement before which 
the minds of more than ordinary mortals may well be dum- 
founded with amazement. Newton's was a mind which could 
never rest upon a mere nebulous notion ; all that he turned 
his mental gaze upon was resolved into an ordered and well- 
defined system. If he were not the first to conceive the true 
mechanism of the universe, it was his great glory to have in- 
vented a method of testing its truth, to have created the mathe- 
matics and geometry of the science of motion which enabled 



324 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

him to verify the hypothesis, and to be the first to announce 
its most important laws. 

From that fortunate moment when Newton pondered over 
the fall of an apple the fate of astrology was sealed. We can 
scarcely realize in this year of grace what a Goliath of super- 
stition was slain by that pebble, the " Principia." We must 
probe the history of the times immediately preceding Newton's 
before we can obtain any adequate notion of the mischievous 
effects of astrology on the human mind, and the impediment 
that it was in the way of progress. Newton, with unerring aim, 
slew occult philosophy at a cast. From his day the intellectual 
field was freed; physical science became possible, and has ever 
since gone on conquering and to conquer. Still we must at all 
times beware of hero-worship, and especially of the tendency 
to believe our great philosophers to be intellectually infallible. 
To the public mind the name of Newton is probably more 
frequently associated with the theory of light, and more espe- 
cially with that beautiful experiment with the prism which was 
supposed to illustrate the decomposition of light, and to con- 
firm beyond all dispute the hypothesis of " emission " which 
he himself had propounded. It is, however, curious and in- 
structive to note that Newton rejected that very undulatory 
hypothesis which has since become the accepted theory, — a 
theory which, on account of his adverse opinion, was con- 
demned in no measured terms by his contemporaries. This 
circumstance, though it may not adorn the tale, at least points 
a moral. But certain characteristics of Newton, which we 
shall presently have to notice, will lead us to think that he 
held his hypothetical views upon "light" quite tentatively, 
contenting himself with giving to the world only, as positively 
ascertained facts, the results of his experiments. 

The habit of thinking was so strong with Newton that it 
entirely abstracted his attention from other matters, and con- 
fined his mind for the time being exclusively to one object. 
Thus we know that he never was occupied at the same time 
with two different scientific investigations. And we find even 
in the most beautiful of his works the simple yet expressive 



SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 325 



had always finally inspired him, from his mind being contin- 
ually and for a long time directed to the same object. This 
accounts for that absence of mind which was one of his most 
noticeable characteristics, and for that seemingly intentional 
secrecy and delay in publishing his discoveries which in several 
instances jeopardized his title to priority ; as, for instance, 
when Mercator's " Logarithmotechnia " was published, in 
which was revealed a method of obtaining the quadrature of 
a curve by expanding its ordinate into an infinite series, — a 
method which Newton had previously discovered and formu- 
lated in a manuscript long since stowed away, and which he 
had almost forgotten. A copy of Mercator's work, however, 
having been forwarded to Newton, its perusal reminded him of 
his own earlier discovery, and caused him to make search for 
that particular manuscript among his papers. This was the 
treatise, "Analysis per ^Equationes Numero Terminorum Infini- 
tas," — the very treatise which so astonished Barrow by the 
wealth of the analytical discoveries which it contained, and 
which w r ere of far greater importance than the particular one 
revealed by Mercator, and which was at the moment exciting 
such general admiration ; but at the time when Mercator's 
work appeared, a new series of discoveries of a totally different 
nature had taken hold of and entirely engrossed Newton's 
thoughts. 

Another and a very commendable motive of Newton's for 
laying an important investigation on one side was the dis- 
covery of a discrepancy between his hypothetical views and 
the observed facts ; — as was at first the case with regard to the 
grand hypothesis of universal gravitation which had dawned 
upon him on noticing the fall of an apple; for in his calcula- 
tions made upon the imperfect data w 7 hich then existed, he 
found that they gave for the force that retains the moon in her 
orbit a value greater by one sixth than that which results from 
her observed circular velocity. This difference) which doubt- 
less to any other person would have appeared very small, 
seemed to his cautious mind a proof sufficiently decisive against 



326 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

the bold conjecture which he had formed ; and so this specula- 
tion was laid aside for years till a fortunate accident revived 
his interest in it. Being present in June, 1682, at a meeting of 
the Royal Society in London, the conversation turned on a 
new measurement of a terrestrial degree recently executed in 
France by Picard, and much credit was given on the occasion 
to the care taken in rendering it exact. Newton, having noted 
down the length of the degree obtained by Picard, returned 
home immediately, and, taking up his former calculation of 
1665, began to recompute it from the new data. Finding, as 
he advanced, the manifest tendency of these numbers to pro- 
duce the long-wished-for results, he suffered so much nervous 
excitement that, becoming at length unable to go on with the 
calculation, he entreated one of his friends to complete it for him. 
This time the agreement of the computed with the observed 
result was all but complete, and Newton ceased to doubt, after 
having been during so many years kept in suspense, about the 
eminently important law that attraction diminishes inversely as 
the square of the distance ; and no sooner had he recognized 
its truth, than he penetrated instantly to its most remote conse- 
quences, and pursued them with a vigor, a perseverance, and 
a boldness of thought which till that time had never been 
displayed in science. Indeed, it seems hardly probable that it 
will at any future time be the destiny of another human being 
to demonstrate such wonderful truths as these, — that all the 
parts of matter gravitate towards one another with a force 
directly proportional to their masses, and reciprocally pro- 
portional to the squares of their mutual distances; that this 
force retains the planets and the comets round the sun, and 
each system of satellites around its primary planet; and that 
by the universally communicated influence which it establishes 
between the material particles of all these bodies it determines 
the nature of their orbits, the forms of their masses, the oscil- 
lations in the fluids which cover them, and, in fine, their small- 
est movements, cither in space or in rotation upon their own 
axes, and all conformably to the actually observed laws. The 
finding of the relative masses of the different planets, the de- 



SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 327 

termination of the ratio of the axes of the earth, the pointing 
out the cause of the precession of the equinoxes, and the dis- 
covery of the force exercised by the sun and moon in causing 
the tides, were the sublime objects which unfolded themselves 
to the meditations of Newton, after he had discovered the 
fundamental law of the system of the universe. Can we won- 
der at his not being able to complete the calculation which was 
leading him to a conviction that the discovery was achieved ? 

Though England may regard Newton as one of her own 
special glories, his benefaction was not to her only, but to the 
world. It was one of which every civilized community could 
avail itself; none could monopolize it. The steam-engine was 
for many years monopolized by England ; but the " Prin- 
cipia," as soon as published, became the common right of the 
nations. Newton's were labors for which wealth could scarcely 
be expected in a very material community; but, strange to say, 
he reaped a competence and a knighthood, perhaps rather for 
superintending the stamping of the coin of the realm than his 
country with the impress of his own genius. 

Newton was born at Woolsthorpe, in Lincolnshire, December 
25, 1642 (O. S.), the year in which Galileo died. From early 
youth he manifested an ingenious mechanical turn, and a taste 
for drawing and painting, He entered Trinity College, Cam- 
bridge, in 1660. The method of fluxions, the theory of univer- 
sal gravitation, and the decomposition of light — that is to say, 
the three grand discoveries which constituted the glory of his 
life — were conceived in his mind before his twenty- fourth year, 
and no work of any great import was attempted after his forty- 
fifth. The "Principia" appeared complete in 1687. He was 
elected President of the Royal Society in 1703, and was 
knighted by Queen Anne in 1705. He was twice in Parlia- 
ment, in which, however, he made no great figure, and died in 
London, March 20, 1727. 1 

I'Sir Isaac Newton's house and observatory in St. Martin's Street, Leicester 
Square, were till within a few years intact ; since then the observatory has been 
barbarously deposed and carried off, — it is supposed to America. 



328 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



ROGER BACON. 

[Born 1214. Died about 1292.] 

IN a century notable for intellectual and literary activity, the 
name of Roger Bacon stands distinct and alone. While 
his contemporaries, Thomas Aquinas and Bonaventura, were 
merely theologians, and Albertus Magnus, though a student of 
natural science and mathematics, essentially a man of his own 
century, Bacon aimed at all attainable knowledge with an in- 
satiable vigor of application that astonished his contemporaries, 
and made discoveries which are among the scientific material 
of the present time. His ideas, his estimate of the age in 
which he lived, his regard for the kind of scholarship then 
held in the highest repute, and his own methods of study, 
place him intellectually among the best scientists of modern 
times. All other scholars of the thirteenth century — the 
schoolmen, as they are called — were content to build upon 
the lines laid down by Aristotle or Plato, dividing themselves 
into the once famous classes of Nominalists and Realists, wa- 
ging an interminable war of words, and shedding the contents 
of numberless inkhorns over the most trivial wrangles. The 
real topics at issue between the irreconcilables of either party 
were, after all, mere questions of standpoint. The belligerents 
would insist on looking in opposite lines of sight at certain 
abstract conceptions which with marvellous ingenuity had been 
deduced from the writings of the two Greek masters ; and the 
result was endless quibbling, much philosophic rancor, and a 
general mill- horse kind of progress in the subjects thus quintes- 
sentially investigated. Bacon was one of the very few schol- 
ars of the thirteenth century who saw and despised the 
emptiness of the scholastic philosophy. As parts of a merely 
formal science, good for disputations and well adapted for 




^ ^ m ^^r^ ' 






ROGER BACON, 



ROGER BACON. 329 

university wit-sharpening, the developments of the various 
Angelic, or Seraphic, or Subtle, or Irrefragable doctors were 
all that could be desired; but to the soul hungering for real 
knowledge, for insight into the ways of God with man, for a 
rational acquaintance with natural laws, they were emptier 
than the wind. It is a singular though trifling coincidence that 
the great inductive philosopher of the sixteenth century should 
be called Francis Bacon, and that the so-called Baconian phi- 
losophy should be virtually identical with that propounded by 
the mediaeval Franciscan. 

Roger Bacon was born at Ilchester, in Somersetshire, in 
1 2 14. After making extraordinary progress in the regular 
studies of the monastic school and the University of Oxford, 
where he was taught by the distinguished scholar, Edmund 
Rich, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, he proceeded to 
Paris to complete his education. Here he distanced most of 
his competitors, but was ever discontented with the vanity of 
his literary acquirements. His opinion of the Aristotelian 
logic was that it simply tended to promote and propagate 
ignorance. He was immeasurably more strongly attracted by 
the charms of physical research. 

The secrets of nature were to him the only secrets worth 
investigation. And his works still extant clearly show that he 
had the right method of study, especially that extraordinary 
book which cost him so much toilsome research and so vast an 
expense, the " Opus Majus." Not that his method was nearly 
as complete as the " Novum Organon " of his great namesake, 
but it was certainly more profitable than the " Vetus Organon " 
of the .master of the mediaeval world. Without detracting from 
the grandeur and completeness of conception and arrangement 
which mark the Aristotelian logic, it must be admitted that the 
interpretation of nature, considered by all philosophies to be 
the proper function of human intelligence, is much more prob- 
able when attempted through the observation of natural phe- 
nomena than through the formularies of Barbara celarent darii 
and the rest of the jargon, not inaptly rounded off with the 
grandly sounding ferio baralipton of Moliere's " Bourgeois 



330 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Gentilhomme." A physical science which could deduce its 
facts from foregone conclusions was not the science to satisfy 
the mind of any true lover of nature. It is no little credit to 
the University of Oxford that in the middle of the thirteenth 
century she could produce men like Bacon and Robert Grosse- 
teste and Richard Fishacre, — men who were not bound by the 
little circle of dialectic subtleties, but who had made substan- 
tial progress in good practical knowledge of material things. 
At that time Paris was held to be the leading university in 
Europe, and when Bacon repaired thither it was with the hope 
of obtaining the best teaching that could possibly be had. He 
obtained the degree of doctor in theology, the highest the 
university could afford ; but he returned to Oxford dissatisfied 
and disappointed. It is generally said that he entered the fra- 
ternity of the Cordeliers, or Minorites, as the Franciscans are 
variously called, while he resided in Paris. 

His by-name of the Wonderful Doctor was won through his 
marvellous novelties in physical science. His devotion to this 
branch of research was constant and unwearied. In twenty 
years, which he spent with the most assiduous industry in col- 
lecting facts and making experiments, he gained the title of 
magician, and expended upwards of two thousand French livres 
of the period, upon books, instruments, and lectures. And 
believing that there should be the closest connection between 
science, literature, and religion, he studied thoroughly the 
Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic languages, in order that he 
might read the masterpieces of the ancients in the original 
tongues. With Plato, he looked upon mathematics as the true 
keystone of the sciences. He was the first to point out the 
accumulated errors of the Julian calendar, and in 1264 pro- 
posed to Pope Clement IV. to rectify the calculations. A 
copy of his corrected calendar is still preserved in the Bodleian 
Library. 

In optical science not only does he point out the chief facts 
of refraction and other cognate phenomena, but he applies his 
knowledge to the construction of lenses. He made spectacles, 
he says, for the use of the aged. In geography he mastered 



ROGER BACON. 331 

all that was then known, and threw out several very shrewd 
conjectures with regard to facts only verified since his time. 

But all his knowledge, so far from placing him in his own 
age on the pinnacle of fame and loading him with wealth and 
honor, only resulted in disappointment, misfortune, and loss. 
Knowledge so uncommon and talents so brilliant as to be 
beyond the comprehension of his fellow-monks were danger- 
ous possessions. His somewhat inflated language — a fault due 
in part at least to the Latinity of the schools — drew upon him- 
self the jealousy of the brotherhood to which he belonged. 
His pretensions were narrowly scrutinized, his character im- 
pugned, and at length he was solemnly charged with atheism 
and imposture. 

It was not altogether owing to his reputation for magical and 
astrological acquirements that Bacon was opposed and even 
persecuted by his own order, nor was it altogether the result of 
jealousy. It might be, and indeed was, the case that in conse- 
quence of some suspicion as- to his faith he was prevented from 
reading his lectures to the younger students of the university ; 
but there is good reason to believe that he urged his views 
with regard to the ignorance and immorality of both monks 
and clergy with very much more zeal than discretion. This 
was probably the true cause of both his inhibition and his 
imprisonment. In 1266 the Pope, Clement IV., to whom he had 
sent some specimens of his labors, wrote to him desiring to 
see the whole of his work. To oblige that potentate, there- 
fore, he at once collected, enlarged, and completed his various 
treatises, and sent them by one of his own scholars to Rome. 
The collected works thus united into one whole he styled his 
"Opus Majus," or "Greater Work." It is still extant, and was 
edited and published by Dr. Jebb in 1773. Twelve years after- 
ward the work was completed. Bacon was imprisoned by order 
of the general of his order, as some say on account of certain 
treatises on alchemy which he had written. It is added that 
this same general afterwards set him at liberty and became his 
scholar. We must not be too ready, however, to accept the 
various tales that are told of the wonderful friar; for his life 



332 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

formed one of the marvellous " chap-books " which used to be 
so popular among the poorer class of readers. Eventually he 
was released, and applied his remaining days to the composi- 
tion of his " Compendium of Theology," his last work, a manu- 
script copy of which exists in the Royal Library in the British 
Museum. He died in the college of the Franciscans at Oxford, 
on the nth of June, 1292 or 1294, — it is not certain which 
year, — and was buried in the Franciscan church. 

He was beyond doubt the most extraordinary man of his 
time. He possessed critical skill in the three learned lan- 
guages, and, had he never been famous for scientific attain- 
ments, would have attained celebrity as a linguist and a 
theologian. But his great misfortune seems to be that he 
lived too soon. Born some three hundred years before Galileo, 
it is easy to see how his profound and accurate scientific knowl- 
edge could not be understood or accepted by his contempo- 
raries. He excelled in mathematics ; in mechanics no such 
genius had arisen since the days of Archimedes. 

Every school-boy knows the story of the brazen head, and 
the stupid wonder of the poor monk who heard the marvel- 
lous words, "Time will be, — time is, — time is past." The 
" chap-book " tells the story. But his skill in astronomy was 
still more remarkable ; for, as already mentioned, he was the 
first to detect and to correct the error in reckoning which had 
crept into the calendar. His plan of correction was much more 
complete and accurate than the one actually adopted in the 
pontificate of Gregory XIII. His historical works were volu- 
minous and exhaustive ; but the knowledge which was most 
appreciated, and at the same time feared, in his own day was 
that of chemistry. He was thoroughly acquainted with the 
discoveries of the Arabians in that department of science. 
Whatever other persons may be credited with the discovery of 
gunpowder, he certainly was acquainted with its composition 
and its effects. The art, so called, of transmuting metals of 
course formed part of his researches, and also the composition 
of that tincture of gold which, under the name of the elixir 
vita, was hoped to be a complete panacea for all ills, and even 




JOHN LOCKE. 



JOHN LOCKE. 333 

a defence against death itself. To those who desire to drag on 
an interminable mortality in this present unsatisfactory human 
world, the recent claims of lemon-juice are perhaps equally 
convincing. But if Bacon had some of the follies of his con- 
temporaries he was by no means singular; his very slight 
faults in this respect are more than atoned for by the infinite 
excellence of his labors for the furtherance among mankind of 
sound, accurate, and practical knowledge. He had the great- 
est reverence for the Holy Scriptures, and carefully studied the 
languages in which they were written, under the impression 
that they contained all true science and the elements of all use- 
ful knowledge, — an opinion of the Bible that is not yet extinct. 
Apart, however, from his weaknesses and errors, of which few 
were merely personal, sufficient is still related of him to show 
his undoubted claim to rank among the true benefactors of 
mankind. 



JOHN LOCKE. 

[Born 1632. Died 1704] 

HPHE habit of forming hasty generalizations is perhaps at 
-*- the foundation of most of the differences of opinion which 
affect society. It is encouraged largely, no doubt, by language 
itself; for putting aside all such words as are employed in the 
merely grammatical mechanism of speech, many of those 
which are employed as names, instead of being the names of 
real things, or thoughts or sensations mental and physical, are 
merely the names of imaginary or fictitious ones. Or if they 
do really denote true, substantial objects, those objects are not 
the ones which the speaker believes them to be. Thus, in 
one way or another, false conclusions are reached at times by 
everybody. Nor practically can it ever be otherwise. People 
have not time to go sifting and refining and testing and ana- 
lyzing all their words for the sake of an ideal super-angelic 



334 



OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



perfection. Hence it may be confidently relied upon that doc- 
tors will always disagree. Opinions will always differ. Even if 
reasoning were perfect, things would still be looked at from 
different points of view. Hence a system of morals or philoso- 
phy which should claim the consent of all mankind is utterly 
beyond humanity. Nevertheless it does certainly seem possible 
that if the so-called philosophers would condescend to talk 
about what they thoroughly understand, in language which 
their hearers also may thoroughly understand, and leave all the 
rest unsaid, the world of earnest thinkers would be brought 
considerably nearer unanimity than they are at present. 

It was the opinion of John Locke that knowledge would have 
been very much more advanced if the endeavors of those who 
sought after it had not been much cumbered with the learned 
but frivolous use of uncouth, affected, or unintelligible terms. 
Hence it may be inferred that in the philosophic sense — and, 
let us add, in this sense only, not in the religious, as is com- 
monly, but unthinkingly, supposed — John Locke was a sceptic. 
The one characteristic of his mind above all others was clear- 
ness. The mischief of philosophy is not that philosophers 
cannot see as plainly as other men, but they imagine they can 
see where they really cannot. It was Locke's virtue to avoid 
this Charybdis ; not that there was no Scylla for him to wreck 
upon, but he at least did not endeavor to conceal a void by 
making it a darkness. The endless disputations of philoso- 
phers led him to suspect that they were misled by indefinite 
words or defective conceptions ; so he proposed to clear away 
these metaphysical mists by distinctly ascertaining the grounds 
and limits of human knowledge. He commenced by an in- 
vestigation into the properties of the human understanding. 
He worked out his idea in a masterly treatise, distinguished 
for its equal modesty, tolerance, and acuteness. Like Bacon, 
he preferred the method of experiment to that of speculation, 
and applied that method to the investigation of our inner 
nature. It will give us an interesting glimpse perhaps into the 
growth of his opinions, if we follow him from the university. 
He was born at Wrington, near Bristol, in 1632, and was the 



JOHN J.OCKE. 335 

elder of two sons. His father had served as captain in the 
Parliamentary forces during the civil wars, but, having suc- 
ceeded in retaining a portion of his estates, was able to bring 
up his sons with liberality. The future metaphysician was 
accordingly sent to Westminster School, whence in due time 
he passed to Christ Church, Oxford. He had always expressed 
a fondness for medical studies, and had so far progressed in 
the science of medicine on leaving college as to obtain the 
public praise of Sydenham. The profession of medicine, how- 
ever, was robbed of an ornament in Locke by the offer of an 
appointment, in 1664, as secretary to Sir Walter Vane, envoy 
to the Electoral Court of Brandenburg. Similar appointments 
on his return in the following year were offered, but declined. 
Among the many temptations held out to him was the offer of 
church preferment in Ireland if he would take orders. " I am 
sure," he says, in reply to the Duke of Ormond, who made 
the proposal, " I cannot content myself with being under- 
most, possibly the middlemost, in my profession ; and you will 
allow, on consideration, care is to be taken not to engage in 
a calling wherein if one chance to be a bungler there is no 
retreat." 

So he settled again in Oxford, where he made the 'acquaint- 
ance of Lord Ashley, afterwards Earl of Shaftesbury. The ac- 
quaintance ripened into an intimacy which lasted very nearly 
to the end of his life. In the course of their truly fraternal 
friendship they passed their time chiefly between Exeter House, 
in the Strand, and Oxford, in both places meeting and mixing 
with the most distinguished men of the age. It was after 
many conversations with society of this character that, in 1670, 
he threw out the idea of his " Essay on the Human Under- 
standing." And doubtless it was owing to the difficulty which 
Locke found in pressing the truth of his principles in conver- 
sation that he determined to put his conclusions into writing. 
Encouraged by his friends, he worked out the project so rapidly 
and with such fulness that in the course of a year he had it 
completely in shape. The essay was, however, kept in manu- 
script for many years. At the university he had devoted him- 



336 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

self chiefly to classical studies, but the classics had not entirely 
taken up his thoughts. One of his favorite authors was Des- 
cartes, whose exceedingly clear and attractive writings inspired 
him with ardor for the cultivation of metaphysical studies. 
The theory of Innate Ideas was the one point on which he did 
not hold with the illustrious Frenchman ; but for the most part 
he was captivated with his mathematical distinctness and sim- 
plicity. Locke contested the hypothesis of Innate Ideas, and 
endeavored to prove by the Baconian inductive method that 
all our representations are acquired by experience. The two 
ultimate sources of all our representations he maintained to be 
impressions through the internal senses, and reflection, which 
he termed an internal sense, being an internal perception of 
the operations of the mind. This caused his system to be 
called one of Sensationalism. The details of this system, of 
course, are too extensive to be dealt with in our present limits. 
But his oft-quoted doctrine that the soul, like a piece of white 
paper (tabula rasa~), merely receives the impressions of the 
two sense-faculties of perception and reflection without adding 
anything thereto, forms the basis of his theory of Education. 
He originated many striking suggestions with regard to lan- 
guage, and gave a definition of knowledge which at any rate is 
clear, distinct, and comprehensible. He defines knowledge to 
be the perception of the connection and agreement, or want of 
connection and agreement, between certain representative ideas. 
We see at once that this definition is one to which universal 
assent cannot be given, since he describes the principles of 
thought and knowledge to be all derived and secondary. He 
deduces all knowledge from experience, but his analysis only 
touches its material part. He leaves out the very question 
which causes all the uncertainty and dispute, namely, the. formal 
part, — that apparently unknowable link between the known 
and unknown which is at once our human pride to possess and 
our humiliation not to comprehend. Hence, as Tenneman says, 
" he maintains the possibility of a demonstrative knowledge of 
the existence of God and the Immortality of the Soul, and 
endeavors to erect a system of metaphysics on the uncertain 



JOHN LOCKE. 337 

foundation of empirical knowledge." Here was the Scylla on 
which he split. 

Locke's great object, according to his own statement, was to 
inquire into the origin, reality, limits, and uses of knowledge; 
and in order to render this investigation profitable, his aim, 
in the first place, was to liberate philosophy from the vain and 
endless disputations and barren hair-splittings which had 
characterized its profession from the times of mediaeval scho- 
lasticism. The new theory gained adherents through its very 
common-sense plausibility. Thoroughly exhausted, fiat, stale, 
and unprofitable had become the old method of philosophizing. 
Locke came in with his system as a plain and definite theory 
to account for the generation of thought. His sensationalism 
is, at any rate, not the purely theoretical sensationalism of his 
imitator Condillac. It is true that the doctrine of Locke ignored 
the existence of all ideas involving the notions of universality, 
necessity, and infinity, looking upon necessity as generality, 
and upon infinity as immensity, and reducing them to mere 
negations, or things having no known limits. By affirming the 
necessity of reflection as an essential part of the cognitive 
faculty, Locke at least left room for human liberty, for a will, 
and for a personal conscience ; but Condillac, by his so-called 
simplification, dispensed with reflection and traced all knowledge 
to sensation alone. Thus Condillac reduced mind to a mere 
bundle of sensations ; but not even he sounded the lowest depths 
of this " facilis descensus." It was left to Cabanis to touch the 
very floor of the abyss, and to bring metaphysics within the 
region of material physiology. To say that the opinions of 
the last of the encyclopaedists form the basis of our present 
advanced physiological theories of mental structure, would 
perhaps be going too far ; but it is ground on which we do not 
think it either wise or profitable to tread in this connection. 
Locke believed the freedom of the understanding to be under- 
mined by the Innate Idea theory of his favorite master, and 
he set himself the task of opposing it with a theory of his own. 
The theory was this, — no authoritative belief exists in the mind 
which has not an origin in experience. He could not conceal 



338 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

from himself the conviction that the most extensive human 
beliefs were shaped and tinged by the varying experiences of 
the nations and individuals who held them. Hence his own 
faith in his experimental doctrine of knowledge. Leibnitz had 
still to wr'te that masterly critique, " Nouveaux Essais sur l'En- 
tendement humain; ' and so the weakness of his theory had 
not been brought home to him. Nor had Kant as yet added 
to the intuitional doctrines of Descartes their strongest confir- 
mation by his strict definition of the domain of that essential 
faculty. Locke's philosophy was practical. His theory was 
devoted to a thoroughly practical and English object. He was 
no hair-splitting dogmatist, but a clear-headed earnest thinker 
who aimed at a manageable, definite, and universally practi- 
cable method ; and if he omitted certain occult elements in 
metaphysical inquiry it was with the avowed purpose of pro- 
ducing a lucid and tangible system, free from the wearying 
uncertainty and mystification of the conflicting systems which, 
as a thinker, it was his misfortune to inherit. 

In 1683, owing to political troubles in which Lord Shaftes- 
bury became involved, both he and his patron retired into 
exile in Holland. In doing this he incurred the displeasure of 
the English Government, and was deprived by royal mandate 
of the studentship which, equivalent to a fellowship in other 
colleges, had been his chief means of support. Thus, in the 
language of Fox, " without the shadow of a crime, he lost a 
situation attended with some emolument and great convenience, 
and the university was deprived of — or rather thus, from the 
base principles of servility, did she cast away — the man the 
having produced whom is her chiefest glory." It was, no doubt, 
owing to this exercise of paltry tyranny and injustice that 
Locke was provoked to take up the decided position which he 
afterwards assumed as a political writer, and to put forth his 
celebrated " Letters on Toleration." The first letter, written in 
1687, was published twice in London during the year 1690, the 
year in which first appeared his other and still more celebrated 
treatise, the " Essay on the Human Understanding." 

The Revolution enabled him to return, not only to England, 




BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 339 

but to his studentship at Oxford. But his life, though still busy 
with incessant occupation of one kind or another, was drawing 
to a close. He lost his friend Lord Shaftesbury ; and though 
the place was somewhat filled by the Earl of Pembroke, to 
whom he dedicated his great work, Locke seemed to have 
suffered an irreparable loss. His health, never very strong, 
began to give way. In 1695 he published his " Reasonableness 
of Christianity," and a short commentary on the Apostolic 
Epistles. The spring of the year 1704 came without bring- 
ing its accustomed renovation to his wasting frame. In 
a letter written on the 1st of June to Mr. King, he plainly 
stated his conviction of the near approach of death. Almost 
his last words were, " that he had lived long enough, and that 
he thanked God he had lived a happy life ; but that, after all, 
he looked upon this life to be nothing but vanity." He died 
on the 28th of October, 1704. 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 

[Born Jan. 17, 1706. Died April 17, 1790.] 

TN how many autobiographies shall we find the story of a 
-■- lengthy and well-spent life so modestly told as in that of 
Franklin? The celebrated philosopher carried his avoidance 
of self-praise to a pitch that leaves the reader half inclined to 
censure him. Not content with setting down his faults in full, 
he all but omits the history of his labors, and leaves his virtues 
wholly to the record of others. The book that Benjamin Frank- 
lin, the statesman and scientific discoverer, gave to the world, 
does little more than describe the fortunes and misfortunes of 
Benjamin Franklin the journeyman printer. When the writer has 
reached that point in his career where years and honors began 
to fall heavily on him, he abruptly ends. He felt as all men truly 
great must feel. The seedtime of his life he might himself be 



340 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

permitted to describe ; the harvest that he reaped had best be 
enlarged upon by the pens of others. 

Franklin at eighteen and Franklin at eighty are contrasted 
with all the sharpness of effect in which Dame Fortune some- 
times delights. In 1723 the future ambassador to France and 
signer of treaties entered Philadelphia in search of work, hav- 
ing left home to escape from the tyranny of a brother. Dressed 
in rough workman-fashion, and bearing legibly about him 
the marks of hardship and long travel, he could scarcely be 
accounted a youth whose condition and prospects augured 
eminent success in life. Of the money that had been in his 
purse at starting, a single dollar was all that remained. Going 
into a baker's shop, he spent part of this slender capital in the 
purchase of three large rolls. " I had often made a meal of 
dry bread," is his quiet comment on the circumstance. A roll 
under each arm, and eating the third, he walked forward 
through the streets of the town, and was seen, as he passed her 
father's door, by the girl destined to become his wife. Their 
love was not born of this first sight; for the figure he cut 
seemed to her both awkward and ridiculous. 

Sixty-two years later he re-entered Philadelphia. Very 
different was this last visit from the first. The streets were 
splendid with decorations, and crowded with citizens eager to 
welcome him. He was now the man whom, next to Washing- 
ton, Americans delighted to honor. As commissioner at the 
Court of France, he had brought to a successful issue the 
difficult and delicate mission intrusted to him. His scientific 
reputation was European, and his " Poor Richard's Maxims" 
were in the hands, as well as the mouths, of all his countrymen. 
And therefore, putting aside for the moment republican sim- 
plicity, the inhabitants of Philadelphia received with almost 
royal honors the man whose abilities and achievements were 
accounted extraordinary throughout the civilized world. 

Such prosperity had no ill effect upon the subject of it. 
Sagacity, sound common-sense, and energy were the features 
that, above all, distinguished the character of Franklin. To 
however difficult a pass life might bring him, he had, in general, 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 341 

sense to discern the right road and strength to follow it. This 
long gap of sixty-two years we can but imperfectly fill up in 
this article, for it covers the important period connecting the 
first foreshadowing of the American revolt against Great 
Britain with achieved independence. And in all this Franklin 
bore so honorable and conspicuous a part that the narration 
alone would demand many pages for the most concise presen- 
tation of those events with which his career is associated. We 
may say, however, since brevity is thus imposed upon us, that 
if he is not the First American, Franklin's title to be considered 
the Second will hardly be contested by the best judgment of 
his own countrymen. In any definition of the misused phrase, 
Franklin was a great man. Whether the having raised himself, 
by the force of his own talents, from poverty and obscurity to 
a commanding position among his contemporaries, shall be 
accepted, — and this is the world's estimate of greatness ; or 
whether a more impartial consideration of what he actually 
accomplished for the good of mankind shall make up the ver- 
dict; or whether those splendid natural gifts which enabled him 
to grasp, and in no small measure to influence, the course of 
public events, shall confirm the decree, — Franklin's place in 
history is secure. It is unique. There is nowhere a more 
forceful example of what a man endowed with brains, energy, 
and sagacity may achieve. Franklin possessed all these. Step 
after step, the tallow-chandler's son ascended the ladder; but 
he began at the foot, and he never stopped until he had reached 
the topmost round. 

Franklin's 'parents were too poor to give him a liberal edu- 
cation, too humble to look beyond the lowliest pursuits for a 
career. The boy could go to school only when he was not 
wanted at home. But these deficiencies were made good by 
the boy's own intuition that knowledge was power, and his 
dogged determination to possess it at any cost. He read 
everything that he could lay hold of, wrote out his thoughts 
upon what he had read, compared, analyzed, pondered, disci- 
plined his mind and hand, until he had acquired that clear, pure, 
concise, and solid style which distinguishes everything that 



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344 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

distinct from the narrow views of the ministry. In 1757 his 
growing reputation advanced Franklin to the highly honorable 
post of agent in England for four of the provincial govern- 
ments. In an independent State this appointment would be 
equivalent to that of ambassador. The journeyman printer 
now found himself once more in London, but as the associate 
of the learned, the powerful, and the great. He was elected a 
member of the Royal Society, and he received the degree of 
LL.D. from the universities of Edinburgh and Oxford. He was 
now Dr. Franklin. In 1764 he was again sent to London ; 
and this time his knowledge of affairs, the clearness of his 
views upon those grave public questions that were daily widen- 
ing the breach between the two countries, gave the philosopher 
a prominence in statesmanship that he maintained throughout 
the stormy period now approaching. He had most patriotically 
but ineffectually endeavored to avert the calamities threatening 
both England and America with a rupture ; but this was the 
period of infatuation, and so Franklin's counsel and Franklin's 
warning were of little avail. We may say, however, that no- 
where is there to be found so full and comprehensive a view of 
the colonies at that time, as is contained in the minutes of 
Franklin's examination with reference to the repeal of that 
egregious piece of folly, the Stamp Act. During this residence 
abroad Franklin gained enlarged views of the state of Europe 
by travel on the Continent. There soon came an opportunity 
of rendering a most signal service to his country by expos- 
ing the double-dealing of Governor Hutchinson of Massachu- 
setts, who in his letters to the ministers had been urging them 
to put down rebellion with the strong hand. Some of these 
letters, having come into Franklin's possession, were sent to 
Massachusetts, where their publication created intense excite- 
ment and indignation. 

The time for peaceful negotiation having passed, Franklin re- 
turned to America in 1775, where his presence was needed. 
He was immediately chosen to the Continental Congress, taking 
thenceforward an active part in its deliberations and its work 
of meeting the crisis with vigor and effect. He favored inde- 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 345 

pendence of Great Britain ; and when that measure was being 
discussed, he is said to have put the matter forcibly before the 
wavering members by the remark, " Come, gentlemen, if we do 
not hang together, we shall hang separately." 

But Franklin's greatest political services were performed as a 
negotiator at the Court of Louis XVI. The alliance with France 
was owing in a larger measure, doubtless, to Franklin's tact, 
perseverance, and the great popularity he acquired, both with 
the Court and people, than to his associates, Messrs. Lee and 
Deane. Franklin had the proud satisfaction of putting his 
name to the treaty of peace which, in his view, was the only 
legitimate result of the Declaration of Independence. He then 
a-ked for his recall. 

Full of years and honors, Benjamin Franklin returned to 
America to die. What he accomplished in the interests of 
peaceful progress should be the grateful task of his biog- 
rapher to commemorate; but we must reluctantly leave these 
noble or charitable deeds of his with the remark which every 
American, at least, will appreciate : " If you would see his mon- 
ument, look around you." His will contained noble provision 
for those institutions that he had either founded or derived 
benefit from, for the promotion of learning, the arts, philan- 
thropy, and for the public good in general. His self-written 
epitaph expresses with quaint dignity the temper in which 
he looked on death. Frequently as the words have been 
quoted, no sketch of Franklin could be considered satisfactory 
that omitted them. 

'• The body of Benjamin Franklin, printer, 

Like the cover of an old book, 

Its contents torn out, 

And stript of its lettering and gilding, 

Lies here, food for worms ; 

Yet the work itself shall not be lost, 

For it will (as he believes | appear once more 

In a new 

And more beautiful edition, 

Corrected and amended 

By 

The Author." 



346 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

A fitting hope to express itself on the tombstone of one who, 
having written, " The most acceptable service we can render 
to God is to do good to his other children," spent his whole life 
in practising the benevolence he preached ! We shall find in 
the character of Franklin little that is dazzling or magnifi- 
cent, nothing resembling the fiery combinations of vices and 
virtues that from time to time blaze across the world like 
meteors. His career shines with the steady light of a star; 
and that splendor is ever equable and serene. 



SIR THOMAS MORE. 

[Born 147S. Beheaded 1535.] 

AROUND the reign of the Eighth Henry there hangs a 
double darkness, — the mist of centuries and the mist of 
blood ; and historical attempts to pierce that twofold veil have 
proved but partially effectual. We know that two queens died 
on the scaffold, that the axe took away the life of noble after 
noble, that seventy-two thousand victims of lesser note suffered 
death at the hands of the executioner; and that side by side with 
all this tragic work went on the business and the merriment of 
the every-day world. Old historians, however, and the manu- 
script records through which patient scholars labor with untir- 
ing industry, though they furnish us pictures enough of the 
dark drama of the time, teach us little concerning the actors. 
Was Anne Boleyn a much-maligned queen or a wretched 
culprit? Can Cranmer claim to be venerated as a martyr? On 
these and a hundred other questions each fresh investigator 
pronounces a verdict differing from that of his predecessor, 
till the confusion of the epoch becomes so hopeless that 
a • historian arises who can discern all the virtues that ever 
adorned a monarch in the English Nero himself. There is 
one name of the period, however, to the nobleness of which 




SIR THOMAS MOORE. 



SIR THOMAS MORE. 347 

those who consider Henry VIII. a hero, and those who per- 
ceive in him a worthless scrap of human refuse lifted aloft on 
the tide of the Reformation, alike bear testimony. No stain 
of reproach has ever been cast upon the memory of Sir Thomas 
More. 

Born of parents who could claim for themselves and their 
ancestors but the middle rank in life, More early gave token 
of the qualities by which greatness is achieved. It was cus- 
tomary, while the Church of Rome still held sway in England, 
for ecclesiastics of high rank to receive into their houses boys 
of good name and character, nominally as pages, but in reality 
to receive instruction in the learning of the time. Placed on 
such a footing in the household of Cardinal Morton, young 
Thomas quickly attracted the attention and "won the regard of 
his patron ; and with a prophecy that so extraordinarily gifted 
a lad would climb high in Church or State, the generous eccle- 
siastic despatched him to study at Oxford. 

For a time Fortune seemed to have laid aside her proverbial 
fickleness, that she might be constant to Thomas More. He 
adopted the law as his profession, rapidly acquired renown, and 
while still a young man was returned to Parliament. Strong 
religious sentiments at this period held possession of his mind. 
He lectured on the work of St. Augustine, " De Civitate Dei ; " 
passed much of his time in devotion ; and had thoughts of 
retiring from the world. A pair of bright eyes fortunately in- 
terrupted the current of his meditations ; and More, happy in 
his wedded life, gave to mankind the mind that he had all but 
resolved should narrow itself to the captivity of a monastery. 

The publication of his great work, " Utopia," placed him high 
among the men of letters of the age, and far in advance of that 
age as a philosopher and reformer. It seems strange that a work 
so liberal in its tenor should have escaped the censure of the 
Government, stranger still that the quiet but persistent opposi- 
tion of More to the despotic demands of King and Court 
should have failed to draw down on him the anger of the pas- 
sionate Henry. Far, however, from paling, his star continued 
year by year to beam more brightly. In 1529 came the fall of 



348 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Wolsey. Eight days after the Great Seal of England had been 
taken from the unhappy Cardinal, King Henry delivered it to 
Sir Thomas More. 

The years of his chancellorship shine out with noonday 
brightness from the judicial darkness of the Tudor period. 
After ages of corruption, England at length had for her chief 
judge a man who loathed the infamous practices by which his 
predecessors had grown rich. The hands of More were clean 
from bribes. Such praise would in our own time sound su- 
perfluous, if not insulting. Applied to a chancellor of the 
sixteenth century it became the token of an integrity at the 
spotlessness of which men stood amazed. Bacon himself, 
the greatest Englishman that ever sat on the woolsack, could 
not claim it. 

Erasmus, the life-long friend of Sir Thomas, has left us a 
delightful picture of the domestic happiness enjoyed by the 
great Chancellor. Fortunate in a second marriage as in the 
first, surrounded by attached and dutiful children, More passed 
year after year in an atmosphere of peace, lighted by the 
cheerful brightness of his lambent humor. The greatness of 
his spirit appeared in his every action. The constant study of 
his life was how to temper law with equity, to deal forth equal 
justice to rich and poor, to prevent needless litigation, to drive 
cruelty and dishonesty from the judgment-seat. In his integrity, 
however, there was no taint of harshness. Even bribes were 
put from him less with a rebuke than a jest. A rich widow 
once brought to him at the New Year a pair of gloves stuffed 
with gold angels. More emptied the money into her lap. " It 
is against good manners," he said, " to refuse a gentlewoman's 
New Year gift. I will therefore take the gloves, but thou 
mayest keep the lining." 

To the country house of Sir Thomas at Chelsea came many 
times the King himself. Chelsea was then a quiet village, with 
green fields sloping down towards the pure and sparkling waters 
of the Thames. Henry shared the dinner of his Chancellor, 
laughed without measure at his jests, and walked and talked 
with him in his quaint, spacious, trimly kept garden. Once 



SIR THOMAS MORE. 349 

the son-in-law of Sir Thomas watched the King strolling for 
an hour over lawn and path, his arm the while round the Chan- 
cellor's neck. Some sunbeam striking down on one of the dials 
then common in English gardens may have brightened into 
prominence the "Memento mori " gilded there; but the warn- 
ing, though it impressed itself on the heart of More, escaped 
his son-in-law. The King departed ; and, the Chancellor being 
again alone, his eager relative ran to congratulate him. " Never 
saw I our Lord the King do so to any before," he declared, 
" save once to the Cardinal, with whom his Grace walked arm 
in arm." Sir Thomas had a clearer brain, and a spirit pure 
from all taint of vanity. " I thank our Lord," he replied, " I find 
his Grace my very good lord indeed, and I believe he doth as 
singularly favor me as any subject within his realm. Howbeit, 
son Roper, I may tell thee I have no cause to be proud thereof; 
for if my head would win a castle in France it should not fail 
to go." 

The stormy epoch of the English Reformation dawned. 
Catherine was divorced, and the diadem of queen consort 
passed to the forehead of Anne Boleyn. Unable to recognize 
her as queen, More resigned the chancellorship and retired 
into private life. The anger of the King pursued him. Sum- 
moned to admit the lawfulness of the divorce of Catherine, he 
refused. The Tower gates quickly closed on him, and his 
property was declared forfeited to the Crown. A year of cap- 
tivity followed. The oath of supremacy had by this time been 
devised, and after some debate was formally tendered to Sir 
Thomas. A fervent and pious Catholic, he refused to acknowl- 
edge Henry as the Supreme Head of the Chuch; and the 1st 
of July, 1535, beheld him condemned to suffer as a traitor. 

He was brought back to the Tower by the river, that ma- 
jestic and placid water-way along which he must many times 
have passed to the beloved home at Chelsea whither he was 
never to return. At the Tower wharf his " best-beloved 
daughter, Margaret," was waiting to receive the farewell bless- 
ing of the father whose affection for her had been so tender. 
She broke through the guard that encompassed him; and, 



350 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

flinging herself upon his neck, was but able, between tears and 
kisses, to exclaim bitterly, " Oh, my father ! Oh, my father ! " 
More soothed her with the hope of meeting hereafter; and, 
bidding her be patient for his loss, blessed her most tenderly 
and departed slowly from her sight. 

From the sight of history 'he can never depart. His death, 
as noble and courageous as his life, closed with solemn and 
appropriate dignity the story of a career in which from youth 
till age the fear of God had been displayed together with the 
love of man. Never did Christian pass with calmer heroism to 
his reward. "O death, where is thy sting?" was the trium- 
phant question that spoke in every detail of the martyrdom of 
Sir Thomas More. 



SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 

[Born 1554. Died 15S6.] 

GENIUS, like other natural forces, obeys a very common 
law of recurrence. Like the storm-wind, which in its wil- 
fulness it seems to imitate, it moves in cycles. After a certain 
number of years it sweeps throughout the length and breadth 
of a land, and vibrates the chords of men's hearts with a won- 
drous similarity of power. The epochs of genius have been 
frequently observed, and are termed in history the ages of cer- 
tain princes or pioneers of culture. Thus we have the age of 
Pericles in Greece, the Augustan and the age of Leo X. in Italy, 
those of Francis I. and Louis Ouatorze in France. Sir Philip 
Sidney was born at Penshurst in Kent on the 20th of November, 
1554, in a period crowded with the most brilliant scholars, 
heroes, and poets this country has ever seen. It was the age 
of Spenser and Hooker, of Bacon, Raleigh, Buckhurst, Chap- 
man, and Buchanan, of Drayton, Jonson, and Shakspearc. To 
pass beyond the narrow limits of Britain, it was a time when 




SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 



SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 35 1 

Spain had her Cervantes, Portugal her Camoens, and Italy her 
Tasso. Not that these illustrious writers formed or even con- 
tributed to Sidney's character, for he was among the earliest of 
them. When he first saw the light Raleigh was a child of two 
years, Spenser an infant of twelve months, Bacon and' Shak- 
speare were yet unborn. Having acquired the rudiments of 
knowledge at Shrewsbury School in 1569, he went first to 
Oxford and then to Cambridge, following not merely the 
beaten tracks of literature and science, but exploring their 
innermost recesses with a vehemence as great as it was un- 
common. The vastness of his appetite for learning was only 
surpassed by his powers of assimilation and appropriation. On 
leaving the university, as was usual with young men of his rank 
and means, he went abroad. In Paris he was startled by the 
terrific night of St. Bartholomew, and only escaped destruc- 
tion through taking refuge in the house of Sir Francis Wal- 
singham, the English ambassador. He stayed, nevertheless, 
long enough in Paris to make the acquaintance and gain the 
respect of the learned printers, Robert and Henry Stephens, 
and to commence a correspondence with Languet, who re- 
garded him with a fatherly tenderness, and gave him the most 
excellent advice, contributing very considerably to the for- 
mation of that bright and honorable character for which he 
became even at that early age celebrated throughout Europe. 

From Paris Sidney passed on to Strasburg and Frankfort; 
and here he met in person with the venerable jurisconsult, who 
was then on a secret embassy from the Elector of Saxony. 
He is thus referred to in the " Arcadia : " — 

" The song I sang old Languet had me taught, 
Languet, the shepherd best swift Istu knew, 
For clerkly reed and hating what is naught, 
For faithful heart, clean hands, and mouth as true." 

In May, 1575, after a three years' absence, he returned to 
England, where his varied learning, his gentle and refined 
manners, and his polished and powerful intellect made him at 
once the admiration and ornament of the Court of Elizabeth. In 



352 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

1576 the Queen sent him on an embassy ostensibly to condole 
with the Emperor Rudolph on the death of his father, Maximil- 
ian II., but in reality to feel the pulse of Protestantism in the 
empire, with regard to a combination of the Protestant States 
against the Catholic power. A similar mission to John Casimir, 
Count Palatine, was equally successful. During his stay in 
Holland he had formed a sincere and enduring friendship with 
its illustrious Stadtholder, William of Orange. Notwithstanding 
disparity of rank, the Prince always generously insisted upon 
treating Sidney as his equal and placing him among the most 
intimate of his personal friends. Again returning to London, 
he enjoyed the particular notice and special admiration of the 
Queen, who exercised towards him a sort of motherly solicitude. 
He very nearly risked her displeasure over the proposed 
marriage with the Duke of Anjou, of which he was too patri- 
otic and truly honest to approve, by writing a long letter to the 
Queen, in which he urged many excellent reasons against the 
match, and in fact succeeded in setting her mind against it. 
Becoming involved in a quarrel with the Earl of Oxford, he 
retired from Court and took up a temporary residence at Wilton, 
the seat of his brother-in-law, the Earl of Pembroke. Here, to 
beguile his time, he composed his great work, the "Arcadia." 
It is a curious allegorical romance, written simply to amuse his 
sister, the sister on whom Ben Jonson afterwards wrote that 
most polished of epitaphs : — 

" Underneath this marble hearse 
Lies the subject of all verse, 
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother. 
Death, ere thou hast slain another 
Wise and good and learned as she, 
Time shall cast his dart at thee." 

The verses stand beneath her portrait at South Kensington, 
and recall to the spectator the tender sisterly love which years 
after the young poet-hero's death collected the cherished 
sheets of manuscript, sent to her one by one as they had been 
written, and carefully had them printed in his honor. Perhaps, 



SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 353 

considering the nature of the composition, its greatest praise is 
that it is not absurd. Neither is it stilted like Harrington's 
" Oceana," nor long-winded and wordy like Barclay's " Argenis." 
As Sidney formed his style upon the Italian writers, he is not 
always able to avoid the blemishes which occasionally mar 
even the delicious music of the " Orlando." There is a ten- 
dency to conceit in phraseology, though it is modified no doubt 
by the chastening pen of the refined and scholarly woman who 
undertook the task of its revision. 

As he was probably not more than twenty-five at the time of 
its being handed piecemeal to the Countess of Pembroke, it is 
scarcely fair to subject it to a very severe criticism. We must 
remember that he wrote not so much as a practised author, but 
as a soldierly courtier for amusement. The plot of the " Arca- 
dia " is skilful, but the story is in many parts extremely im- 
probable, while the form of a Spenserean sort of romance in 
prose cannot but be more or less tedious and wearisome. Still, 
like the " Faerie Queen," it abounds with brilliant passages. In 
description of natural beauty Sidney is the equal of any of 
his contemporaries ; in intellectual polish he surpasses many. 
It is true that that most exquisite of perfumed critics and most 
fastidious of dilettanti, Horace Walpole, speaks of it as a 
lamentable pedantic pastoral romance ; but it has nevertheless 
received for its wit the praise of John Milton and the deliberate 
commendation of Sir William Temple. 

As for the lesser work, the " Defence of Poesy," it is only the 
fact of its being overshadowed by the superior fame, or rather 
magnitude, of the " Arcadia " that prevents its being known as 
one of the most perfect of literary productions. But apart from 
his fame as a writer, the chief element of which, after all, prob- 
ably arises from his brilliant character as a diplomatist and a 
soldier, he was a man so perfect that it is hard to select a 
quality which can be spoken of as pre-eminent. He was even 
in his own day the pattern to which younger men were directed 
to look. Happening to live at a period when the opinions of 
the age were just on the point of a radical change, he has a sin- 
gular felicity in touching the characteristics of the two periods 

23 



354 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

in his own character. Courage, courtesy, grace, humanity, and 
unsullied honor mark him as the preux chevalier of the period 
ridiculed in the immortal parody of Cervantes, while the love 
of literature, the cultivated scholarship, the statesmanship, pa- 
triotism, and sincere religious belief prace him among the 
foremost spirits of the Reformation. Camden says of him that 
" he is his own monument who . . . was born into the world to 
show unto our age a sample of ancient virtues." As a proof 
of the estimation in which he was held throughout the Conti- 
nent, he was personally solicited by a candidate for the Crown 
of Portugal to render assistance, and would have consented had 
he not been forbidden by the Queen herself. 

In 1583 he married the daughter of his old friend and patron, 
Sir Francis Walsingham, and soon afterwards was urged by 
several foreigners of high rank to become a candidate for the 
Crown of Poland. He would probably have been elected ; but 
the Queen again interfered. She could not afford to lose the 
brightest ornament of her Court; and Poland had to struggle on 
until she perished beneath the selfishness of her latest mon- 
arch and the rapacity of her more powerful neighbors. 

In 1585 the revolt of the Netherlands against the oppression 
of Spain and the cruelties of the Duke of Alva brought Sir 
Philip once more to the front as a soldier. Elizabeth had been 
urged by the unhappy Hollanders to render them her powerful 
assistance. In return for her help they made over to her cer- 
tain of their towns, the principal of which was Flushing. Of 
this town Sidney was appointed governor, — an appointment 
which he accepted with the utmost eagerness. Once on the 
spot, though he had to contend with many grave difficulties, 
not the least among which were the incompetence and misman- 
agement of his uncle, the Earl of Leicester, whom the Queen 
had made Captain-General of the Low Countries, he yet suc- 
ceeded in rendering important help to the great cause to which 
he had devoted his energies. His brief career was only long 
enough to prove how invaluable might have been the services 
which were lost by his untimely death. At the severely con- 
tested fight near Zutphen, while behaving with a coolness and 



SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. 355 

courage that rendered his name a byword for heroic deeds, 
he was struck with a musket shot in the left thigh, and to his 
own bitter disappointment utterly disabled. Leaning over his 
horse's shoulder and riding slowly from the field, he was almost 
dead with that fearful thirst which seizes the wounded in battle. 
But even here he was fated to be the victim of self-denial ; for, 
seeing, as he placed the water to his lips, that the precious 
draught was envied by the longing eyes of a wounded and 
speechless soldier, he passed it to the poor fellow, and himself 
rode on to his death-bed. In great agony he lingered on for 
sixteen weary days, and expired on the 19th of October, 1586, 
at the early age of thirty-two. In his death he displayed the 
same great qualities which had ennobled his young but manly 
life, — courage as became a soldier, calmness as of one whose 
conscience was without reproach, and resignation as of a devout 
believer in the Christianity which he had professed and of 
which his spotless life had been so excellent an example. The 
sorrow for his death was universal. Not only in England but 
throughout Europe his loss was mourned as a grievous calamity. 
Even his enemies admired him and wept over his untimely 
fate. For months afterwards in England no gentleman ap- 
peared at Court or in the city out of mourning. The universities 
composed elegies in his honor. Even the Scottish King, 
James, did not think it beneath his royal dignity to write the 
epitaph of the soldier-poet. And Queen Elizabeth denied the 
earnest petition of the States of Holland for the honor of his 
burial, that she might herself render his memory all possible 
honor in a sumptuous funeral and a monument in old St. 
Paul's. 



356 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



JOHN HAMPDEN. 

[Born 1594. Died June 24, 1643.] 

IN the year 1637 the complaints of the English people against 
Charles I. were such as for number and justness had been 
matched in few reigns since the Conquest. Prynne and other 
martyrs in the cause of civil and religious liberty, who com- 
mand our esteem and admiration even when the austerity of 
their Puritanism most repels us, had recently endured mutila- 
tion and imprisonment, and, with ears and noses lopped off" by 
the knife of the hangman, now brooded in obscure dungeons 
over their country's wrongs and their own. Two hateful in- 
quisitions, the Star Chamber and the Court of High Commis- 
sion, tyrannized, the one over things secular, the other in 
questions of ecclesiastical import. The Church was servile, 
the judges were the venal tools of the King, removable from 
office at the royal pleasure, and well aware that in suits to 
which the Crown was a party a decision displeasing to the 
sovereign or his ministers would result in the loss of place and 
pay. Eight years had elapsed since the last meeting of a 
Parliament ; and the boldest patriot of the assembly dissolved 
in 1629, the famous Sir John Eliot, had recently expired in 
the Tower, martyred by an imprisonment inflicted in tyran- 
nous defiance of law. The machinery of despotism was in 
thorough working order ; the property, liberty, and in extreme 
cases the persons, of Englishmen who dared avow a belief 
that freedom was more divine than kinghood, had no further 
security than the forbearance of the sovereign. But Charles 
had as little mercy as faith ; and had he even been disposed to 
lenity, there were at his elbow two counsellors still more faith- 
less and merciless than himself, — Laud and the implacable 
Strafford. 







JOHN HAMPDEN. 



JOHN HAMPDEN. 357 

John Hampden, one of the wealthiest and most respected 
of English commoners, and perhaps the most illustrious of 
English patriots, was born in 1594. His father, a Buckingham- 
shire gentleman, was a member of Parliament, sitting as repre- 
sentative for East Looe in 1593. His mother was the second 
daughter of Sir Henry Cromwell, of Hinchinbroke. At fifteen 
years of age he was entered as a commoner at Magdalen 
College, Oxford. Four years afterwards he was admitted to 
the Inner Temple. In 1619, when in his twenty-sixth year, 
he married Elizabeth, only daughter of Edmund Symeon, of 
Pyrton, Oxfordshire, and on the 30th of January in the year 
following he took his seat in the House of Commons. The 
borough of Grampound, then a place of some importance, had 
the honor of first sending him to Parliament. In the first 
Parliament called by Charles he was returned for Wendover, 
and in the second he was again returned for the same borough. 
During the important session which opened in March, 1627, 
he was already a marked character, and became a member of 
important committees formed by St. John, Coke, Selden, and 
Pym. For more than a year he had ranked as the leading 
opponent of the Court. After the dissolution of the Parlia- 
ment of 1629, the King and his advisers could obtain money 
only by resorting to expedients that were so many outrages 
upon the liberty of the subject and the constitution of the 
realm. The most shameless of these illegal devices has be- 
come historically famous under the name of ship money. In 
1588, when the whole naval might of Spain was bearing down 
upon our coasts, and Drake, Raleigh, Frobisher, and other 
English sea lions were stoutly preparing themselves for a day 
of battle, Elizabeth had demanded from the maritime counties 
a supply of ships and men. Half a century later, at a season 
when no such danger menaced the State, Charles not only 
renewed but heightened the demand, extending it to the inland 
counties, and asking money in lieu of ships, the term " ship 
money" being a name and very little more, and the whole 
scheme a despotic expedient for putting a few hundred thou- 
sand pounds into an empty exchequer. There were thousands 



358 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

who endured in sullen silence this new drain upon their purses 
and their patience ; there was but one man who had wisdom 
and courage enough to refuse payment of the sum at which 
he was assessed. Hampden, one of the most discerning as 
he was one of the most patriotic of Englishmen, perceived 
that never could subject" combat with more justice or for bet- 
ter reasons the authority of the Crown. By agreeing to the 
Petition of Right, Charles had solemnly pledged himself not to 
raise even legal taxes without the consent of Parliament. He 
now sought, in defiance of his oath, unlawfully to exact from 
the country a tax that was in itself unlawful. Would the 
judges, slavish as they were, dare to declare such an abuse of 
the kingly authority the legal prerogative of a constitutional 
monarch? If they should, was the spirit of England so tamed 
that she would look on unresistingly while, at the bidding of a 
tyrant, men appointed to expound and defend her laws tram- 
pled them underfoot? 

The result of the memorable trial that ensued is familiar to 
even the most superficial student of English history. Seven of 
the twelve judges who tried the suit rated their places at a 
higher value than their consciences, and gave judgment for 
the King. The remaining five, although afraid that dismissal 
would punish their unwonted uprightness, could not avoid de- 
claring that the law was wholly in favor of Hampden. The 
nominal victory was with the Crown ; the real triumph belonged, 
by the confession of Clarendon, to him whom the great histo- 
rian terms " the gentleman condemned." The talents, force 
of character, and ardent though calm attachment to liberty that 
had distinguished Hampden from the day when, in 1620, he 
entered upon his public career, had long before marked him 
out as one of the foremost commoners of England. He now 
secured by his bold and timely defence of the national liberties 
the leadership of the party that was banding itself together 
against the Court, and enjoyed until the day of his death a 
political supremacy disputed by none but Pym. 

The immediate effects of his patriotism were, however, to 
put his liberty, and even his life, in danger. The year was 



JOHN HAMPDEN. 359 

1637; the condition of England such as we have endeavored to 
indicate. Hopeless of any present reform, and well aware of 
what was likely to befall him at the hands of Strafford and 
Laud, Hampden determined to seek beyond the Atlantic the 
freedom that neither for himself nor for others could he gain 
at home. In the wilderness of Connecticut a few of the perse- 
cuted Puritans were already gathered together, slowly shaping 
out for themselves a settlement in the woods, and finding cold, 
unremitting toil, the danger of starvation, the neighborhood of 
stealthy and ferocious beasts of prey and of the yet more cun- 
ning and ferocious Indian, more tolerable than the tyranny of 
kings. These he resolved to join. His cousin, Oliver Crom- 
well, shared his sentiments and his purpose ; and the two were 
already on board the vessel that was to convey them into 
their self-sought exile, when an order of council prevented it 
from sailing and forced the intended emigrants ashore. They 
landed, the one to die in a few years a glorious death, the 
other to become the most gigantic figure in the history of the 
time. 

In November, 1640, the Long Parliament met. Hampden at 
once took the lead in the debates of that stirring time. " The 
eyes of all men," writes his political adversary, Lord Claren- 
don, "were fixed upon him as their patricz pater, and the pilot 
that must steer the vessel through the tempests and rocks which 
threatened it. . . . His reputation of honesty was universal, 
and his affections seemed so publicly guided that no corrupt 
or private ends could bias them. . . . He was indeed a very 
wise man, and of great parts, and possessed with the most 
absolute spirit of popularity, and the most absolute faculties 
to govern the people, of any man I ever knew." 

Whether, had he escaped from the skirmish of Chalgrove 
Field, Hampden would in very deed have come to govern the 
people of England is problematical; but it is almost certain 
that a very short prolongation of his life would have seen him 
general-in-chief of the armies of the Parliament. On the first 
lighting of the flames of civil war he was content, probably 
from his lack of military knowledge, with the commission of a 



360 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

simple colonel and permission to raise and equip a regiment of 
infantry. The vigor and ability he displayed in this subordi- 
nate capacity were set off to the best advantage by the faults of 
his nominal superiors. Already voices were clamoring loudly 
for his appointment as commander-in-chief in the place of the 
irresolute Essex, when, on June 18, 1643, Hampden, at the 
head of a few squadrons of dragoons whom he had hastily got 
together, cut off the retreat of Prince Rupert, as that impetu- 
ous leader was returning laden with plunder from a marauding 
expedition on which he had ventured forth from Oxford. The 
skirmish that followed was hard fought, but brief. Two bullets 
were lodged in the body of Hampden ; and as their mortally 
wounded leader drooped forward in his saddle, the cavalry of 
the Parliament turned and fled. While the elated Royalists, 
after sabreing a few of the fugitives, pursued their way to Ox- 
ford, Hampden, turning his horse's head from the lost field of 
Chalgrove, rode slowly to Thame to die. 

The story of his last hours has been told by one of the greatest 
masters of English prose. While the broken prayer, " O Lord, 
save my country — O Lord, be merciful to — " was on the lips 
of the suffering Hampden, Death touched them ; and there 
passed away one of the most stainless and unselfish spirits that 
in any age of the world have been made martyrs to the cause 
of liberty. Alone among the heroes of his generation, Hamp- 
den claims the praise that in all things he labored for his coun- 
try, and in nothing for himself. Other figures loom forth with 
a sterner grandeur from amidst the conflicts of the epoch ; but 
on none has history conferred an immortality equally enviable 
with that of the patriot who first roused Englishmen to a strug- 
gle for liberty, but who would have been the last to consent 
that the altar of freedom when triumphantly erected should be 
stained with the life-blood of a king-. 




LORD WILLIAM RUSSELL. 



LORD WILLIAM RUSSELL. $6 1 



LORD WILLIAM RUSSELL. 

[Born 1641. Died 16S3.] 

TT is too much the fashion to endeavor to trace the descent of 
-*- every hero from some noble ancestry. Writers would seem 
to forget that no estate has the monopoly of heroes. The 
annals of that country prove at a mere cursory glance, and 
most convincingly, that the liberty and power of England is 
being built up and consolidated by genius and heroism from 
every rank. The subject of our present memoir, however, 
is a hero whose noble descent cannot be controverted, but 
whose position was, nevertheless, no safeguard against injus- 
tice, and whose tragic fate, as in numerous other instances in 
history, was due to those political excesses to which faction 
and partisanship can run ere law and justice are wielded with 
the sceptre. 

It is difficult, in these days of constitutional government, — of 
that more equitable distribution of power which our present 
and other heroes have won for us, — to conceive how so grave 
a political murder as the execution of Lord William Russell 
could have been perpetrated. But the very difficulty which we 
now have of understanding how so terrible a crime could have 
been enacted, should show us the vast progress which has been 
made in political morality; and the crime itself should be a 
warning to ourselves and to posterity against allowing political 
passions to rise beyond the bounds of moderation, a wholesome 
respect for law and order; for if these were to be again tram- 
pled down, future historians might probably have to chronicle 
political crimes as terrible and as reprehensible as that we are 
ixcording. 



362 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Lord William Russell, third son of the fifth Earl and first 
Duke of Bedford, the distinguished supporter of constitutional 
liberty, was born about the year 1641. In 1679, when Charles II. 
found it necessary to ingratiate himself with the Whigs, Lord 
Russell was appointed one of the members of the Privy Council. 
He soon, however, found that his party was not in the King's 
confidence ; and the recall of the Duke of York without their 
concurrence induced him to resign. Although his temper was 
mild and moderate, his fear of a Catholic succession induced 
him to take decisive steps to exclude the Duke of York. In 
June, 1680, he went publicly to Westminster Hall, and at the 
Court of King's Bench presented the Duke as a recusant ; and 
in the November following he carried up the exclusion bill to 
the House of Lords, at the head of two hundred members 
of Parliament. The King dissolved the Parliament, evidently 
resolved to govern thenceforward without one ; and arbitrary 
principles were openly avowed by the partisans of the Court. 
Alarmed at. this state of things, many of the Whig leaders 
favored strong expedients to counteract them ; and a plan of 
insurrection, though imperfectly designed, was formed for a 
simultaneous rising in England and Scotland. Among these 
leaders, besides the Dukes of Monmouth and Argyll, were the 
Lords Russell, Essex, and Howard, Algernon Sidney, and 
Hampden. They differed in their views, however ; and it is now 
generally admitted that Lord Russell, looking chiefly to the 
exclusion of the Duke of York, desired only the preservation 
of the Protestant faith, the most public proof of which is prob- 
ably to be found in the reversal of his attainder among the 
very first acts of William and Mary. He was accused of having 
engaged in the " Rye House Plot," which had for its object the 
assassination of the King on his return from Newmarket, and 
was on this pretext committed to the Tower, tried, condemned, 
and executed in July, 1683, being then in the forty-second year 
of his age. 

The trial took place in the Old Bailey Sessions House ; there 
Lord Russell was brought to the bar. It is true that this court 
in Charles the Second's time was more picturesque, with its 



LORD WILLIAM RUSSELL. 363 

carved oaken fittings, hangings, etc., than now. The whole 
scene of the trial is admirably represented in the late Sir George 
Hayter's historical picture, the engraving from which must be 
familiar to many. The point of time chosen for the painting 
of an historical work is but of an instant ; it is in this case that 
in which, the clerk of the court having just administered the 
oath, as is usual on such occasions, the attorneys, advocates, 
and judges are in a state of bustle and anxious anticipation. 
The gallery is filled by numerous spectators, whose faces 
exhibit various degrees of interest in the cause about to be 
decided. The deeper responsibility of the jury is shown in the 
prompt actions of some, and in the general though perturbed 
expression of attention to the business before them. On their 
elevated tribunal sit the judges; and at a lower table, bestrewn 
with books and documents, are the advocates and attorneys. 
Some of the law clerks are busied in writing; the judges, at 
least, wear the semblance of being calm and considerate ; Holt, 
who was counsel for the prisoner, is attentive to the excep- 
tions which Lord Russell has taken to the co-presence of the 
witnesses produced against him ; the attorney and solicitor 
generals are conferring; and Serjeant Jeffreys (afterwards so 
notorious as a judge, and who wears a countenance worthy of 
a better reputation), in his professional acuteness, and with his 
forefinger resting on his brief, has risen, apparently to catch 
some advantage which may militate against the prisoner. 
Conspicuously seated on a bench beneath the jury-box are 
Rumsey, formerly a republican officer, and now, as Hume says, 
a reluctant witness, and Sheppard, who had just been examined, 
and is attending to the whisper of the former with an air of 
evident discomfort. The treacherous Lord Howard, upon whose 
evidence, about to be delivered, must mainly rest the issue of 
the trial, appears at once surly, apprehensive, and conscience- 
stricken. In Lord John Russell's biography of his illustrious 
ancestor he informs us that " Lord Howard began his evidence 
in so low a tone that one of the jury said, 'We can't hear you, 
my lord ; ' upon which his lordship, alluding to the suicide or 
murder of the Earl of Essex, which had taken place that very 



364 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

morning, replied, ' There is an unhappy accident happened 
which hath sunk my voice. I was but just now acquainted 
with the fate of my Lord of Essex.' Having thus shown," adds 
Lord John, " his sensibility at the death of one of his victims, 
Lord Howard proceeded to take away the life of another." 

At the bar, backed by his personal friends, and conspicuous 
by his noble presence, stands Lord Russell himself, — calm, 
dignified, self-collected, equal to either fortune which may 
await him ; and immediately beneath him sits his wife, Rachel, 
Lady Russell, by whom he was assisted during his trial; and 
below the bar he is attended by many faithful friends. The 
presence of Lady Russell brings forcibly to our minds the 
devoted attachment and the sentiment of patriotism which over- 
came the natural timidity of her sex, and enabled her to step 
publicly forward to aid her husband in those anxious hours of 
trial, when conspired against and assailed by all the villanous 
means which despotism and its satellites know too well how to 
array against an enemy. There she sits, attentive and pen in 
hand, looking anxiously towards her husband, all consciousness 
of public observation being absorbed in his peril and her own 
sense of duty. That act has fixed her in the grateful recollec- 
tion of the country, and as one of England's foremost heroines. 

We see the helmeted halberdier who has the custody of Lord 
Russell ; and among his lordship's friends, earnestly attentive 
to the proceedings, may be noticed the Duke of Somerset, the 
Marquis of Halifax, Lord Cavendish, Mr. Howard, and the two 
prelates, Burnet and Tillotson. 

Lord Russell met death with the equanimity which through 
life had always distinguished him. Arrived at the scaffold in 
Lincoln's Inn Fields, he knelt down and prayed three or four 
minutes by himself. When that was done he removed his coat 
and waistcoat, and put on a cap which he had brought in his 
pocket, fearing his servant might not get up to him, and took 
off his cravat without the least change of countenance. Just as 
he was going down to the block some one called out to make 
a lane that the Duke of Albemarle might see, upon which he 
looked full that way. Dr. Burnet had advised him not to turn 



LORD WILLIAM RUSSELL. 2,6$ 

about his head when it was once on the block, and not to give 
a signal to the executioner; these directions he punctually at- 
tended to. 

" When he had lain down," says Dr. Burnet, " I once looked 
at him, and saw no change in his looks; and though he was 
still lifting up his hands there was no trembling, though in the 
moment in which I looked the executioner happened to be lay- 
ing the axe to his neck, in order to take aim ; I thought it 
touched him, but am sure he seemed not to mind it. The 
executioner, at two strokes, cut off the head." 

We must again turn to the now desolate Rachel, Lady Rus- 
sell. She was to her lord the chosen mistress of his heart, the 
affectionate companion of his life, the tender and solicitous 
mother of his children. These qualities were sufficient to 
stamp her character as amiable ; her public conduct mark it as 
sublime. She attended her husband in prison upon a charge 
of high treason, and divided her day between the soothing 
attention which his situation required and the active investiga- 
tions which his defence demanded. She appeared at the Ses- 
sions House, where a nobleman's wife might least be expected, 
as his secretary, writing with her own hand in a court of justice 
those notes from which he was to plead when his life was at 
stake. And after his condemnation she continued to make 
anxious and unceasing solicitations on every side to obtain his 
pardon; and yet amidst these restless endeavors to save his 
life, we have to admire the fortitude which abstained from even 
hinting to the patriot she was about to see perish on the scaf- 
fold that his existence might be prolonged by means degrading 
to his spirit or inconsistent with his honor. 

Mr. Fox, with his accustomed energy of thought and sim- 
plicity of taste, writes of the twin patriots who were sacrificed 
to the tyranny of the Second Charles: "Thus fell Russell and 
Sidney, — two names that will, it is hoped, be forever dear to 
every English heart. When their memory shall cease to be an 
object of veneration, it requires no spirit of prophecy to foretell 
that English liberty will be fast approaching to its final consum- 
mation. Their deportment was such as might be expected 



366 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

from men who knew themselves to be suffering, not for their 
crimes, but for their virtues. In courage they were equal; but 
the fortitude of Russell, who was connected with the world by 
private and domestic ties which Sidney had not, was put to the 
severer trial ; and the story of the last days of this excellent 
man's life fills the mind with such a mixture of tenderness and 
admiration that I know not any scene in history that more 
powerfully excites our sympathy or goes more directly to the 
heart." 

The embarrassment in which every honest lover of liberty is 
placed when submission to arbitrary power and unprincipled 
machinations is opposed by the difficulty, perhaps the impossi- 
bility, of making lawful resistance, is in Lord Russell's case per- 
fectly removed ; for his public conduct in every iota vindicates 
his fame. Despotism can generally warp Christian texts to its 
service, which, opportunely proclaimed from the pulpit and the 
press, would appear to identify royal with theocratical author- 
ity, and while aiming at stultifying the rights and privileges of 
free inquiry and resistance, is intended to exact dishonorable 
submission by giving the semblance of sacredness to acts of 
real tyranny. But neither Burnet, nor Tillotson, nor Charles, 
nor the hope of pardon, could prevail with Lord Russell to 
lend his sanction to the courtly doctrines of divine right and 
non-resistance. His personal danger, therefore, arose out of 
his public integrity and exemplary virtue. He fell in resisting 
despotism and oppression. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

[Born 1732. Died 1799.] 

TT is curious to note the way in which the- same circumstances 
-*• affect different minds. To one man a great soldier is a hero 
and a great benefactor; to another he is but a colossal criminal. 







FAREWELL to IV* ARM V 



FAREW ELL to tic SEMTEi 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 367 

Thus there may be one view of the liberator of the American 
colonies simply as a rebel against his king, by which the very 
patriotism which makes him great becomes the one unpardon- 
able crime of his misguided and mischievous career. But the 
end to be achieved, its bearing upon the welfare of mankind, 
must be the final and substantial tests to the value of any politi- 
cal revolution. Whatever may be the influence and function of 
circumstances over the generality of mankind, it is certain that 
in some individual cases the current of the world's history is 
changed, whether for good or evil, by the mental energy of a 
few individual men. It is, therefore, a fact that George Wash- 
ington was the controlling spirit of the great revolution known 
as the American War of Independence. And it must be admit- 
ted by all candid and unbiassed judgments that the movement 
was one which under the circumstances could not honor- 
ably or even safely be avoided, and that the War of Indepen- 
dence, therefore, was both necessary and just. In this light 
the character of Washington receives a lustre, and his motives 
assume a dignity, to which no mere provincial insurgent could 
possibly be entitled, however pure his intentions or profound 
his personal grievances. The grandeur of the event, the vast 
importance of its issues, the momentous results which success 
or failure must entail upon the whole population of a mighty 
continent, have brought down upon the scene a fierce light of 
scrutiny in which the figure of the calm, silent leader stands 
nevertheless without blemish. Fearless of any man's censure, 
his course was direct and unwavering, his integrity unsullied, 
his justice inflexible. " He was," says Jefferson, " in every 
sense of the word, a wise, a good, and a great man." 

George Washington was born on the 22d of February, 1732, 
in Westmoreland County, Virginia. His ancestors had been 
settled as planters in that remote district for three generations. 
About the year 1657 two brothers, John and Lawrence, emi- 
grated from Lancashire and established themselves on the Poto- 
mac River. John, the elder, had two sons, Lawrence and John. 
Lawrence had three children, John, Augustine, and Mildred. 
Augustine was the father of George. He was twice married, 



368 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

having four children by his first marriage and six by his sec- 
ond. George was the eldest of the second family. Not long 
after his birth his father removed from Westmoreland to a spot 
on the east side of the Rappahannock, in Stafford County, 
opposite Fredericksburg. When George was ten years old his 
father died. His mother lived long enough to see him Presi- 
dent of the New Republic. On the father's death, in 1743, 
his extensive property was divided by will among his children, 
Lawrence, the eldest son, obtaining a plantation on the Poto- 
mac, since become memorable and almost sacred as Mount 
Vernon. To George was bequeathed the estate in Stafford 
County, on which the family were then residing. Eleven years 
afterward Lawrence died, leaving a daughter, who never en- 
joyed good health and who died at the age of eighteen. In 
this way the future liberator became possessor of the world- 
renowned mansion which is so inseparably connected with his 
name. 

In the district of country where he spent the first years of 
his life there were but few advantages for education outside the 
family circle. In some instances, where the plantations were 
sufficiently near each other, several households contributed to 
provide a school. But planters who lived in the remoter dis- 
tricts could only obtain the advantages of education for their 
children by means of private tutors who resided in the house- 
hold. In the case of Washington it appears that even this 
means of tuition was not found. But there is ample reason to 
believe that his parents fully and faithfully executed the trust 
committed to them, and by enlightened and diligent instruction 
and discipline developed the admirable qualities which nature 
had bestowed upon the quiet and thoughtful youth. 

He was born with a physique of the noblest kind. Tall in 
stature and massive in build, he was admirably fitted by nature 
for command, his moral qualities and mental gifts completing 
the grandeur of his character. To these starting-points of 
advantage were added habits which could only have been the 
result of a most careful education. From childhood he was 
remarkable for neatness, method, caution, and self-control, — 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 369 

qualities which constitutionally could scarcely be accounted 
for. That early life on the banks of the Rappahannock was 
the making of the future general and statesman. His English 
ancestors belonged to the best-bred class of the mother coun- 
try ; and the characteristics of high culture were transmitted to 
the latest born, not weakened, but rather heightened, by the 
circumstances of the patriarchal life of the family. The exten- 
sive domains, the independence of life and manners incident 
to a community of planters, the hospitality practised among 
them, and the countless interesting and romantic features and 
details of wilderness scenery and experience, contributed to 
enlarge the elements of an unusual and noble character. 

At fourteen years of age we find him at school ; and while 
there it was proposed to obtain for him a commission as a mid- 
shipman in the Royal Navy. Just, however, as this project 
was about to be accomplished, it was defeated by the earnest 
interposition of his mother. It is a curious reflection to think 
what would have been the result of certain changes in the des- 
tiny of some men, — if, for instance, Oliver Cromwell had been 
permitted to emigrate, if Hampden had not been killed at 
Chalgrove, if Washington had entered the navy, or if a thou- 
sand other imaginary alternatives of history had occurred. 
The best answer to all such idle speculation is the fact that 
they did not occur. Destiny rules otherwise. 

After the project of making a sailor of George had been 
abandoned, it was decided to educate him for the profession of 
a land surveyor. Thus it was that he became a proficient in 
geometry and trigonometry, and at sixteen left school to enter 
upon his profession, which at that time, in a comparatively 
new colony, was regarded as both lucrative and important. 
His manuscripts and drawings executed while studying for 
a surveyor have been preserved, and show that he was well 
qualified for his business. He never did anything for show. 
Whatever he professed he knew. His school exercises were 
characterized by the same neatness, regularity, and order which 
marked all the productions and actions of his future life. In 
March, 1748, he entered upon the important office of exploring 

24 . 



370 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

and surveying the extensive estates of Lord Fairfax, his kins- 
man by marriage, for the purpose of dividing it into lots to 
suit the requirements of continually incoming settlers. A jour- 
nal which he kept of his adventures on this expedition is inter- 
esting, as showing the kind of training which was preparing 
him for the high destiny to which he was afterwards called. 
It was a life of privation and peril, but at the same time it was 
full of excitement. Naturally powerful of frame, this adven- 
turous life favored the development of activity and strength. 
Three years' experience gave him a firmness of muscle and 
vigor of physical energy which few men ever attain at any age. 
With such a frame and after such experience, encountered vol- 
untarily, there was no danger either of his being seduced by 
luxury or deterred by danger from what he considered the path 
of duty. With the pleasures of society and the luxury of in- 
dolence within his reach, he sought for a career weighted with 
hardship and privation. He believed himself created to play 
a more manly part in life. As to society, his private journal 
and even his letters show, that he was by no means insensible to 
the amenities of fashionable life or the charms of feminine conver- 
sation. But to such a disposition as his a life of ease and noth- 
ing else would have been torture. Peril became his pleasure, 
and labor his indulgence. Hence it followed that he gained 
respect and admiration from all who knew him ; and herein we 
see the force of his character. 

His experience as a surveyor was, moreover, of great advan- 
tage to him as giving him a minute acquaintance with the con- 
dition and character of the original settlers, — especially of the 
backwoodsmen who were among the earliest European occu- 
pants of Washington's own section. These remarkable people 
constituted the pioneer circle of the expanding colonies, and 
at this time formed a large proportion of the whole Southern 
colonial population. The strip of emigrant occupancy stretch- 
ing along the coast of the Atlantic consisted of two distinct 
parts, — one the mercantile and seafaring class, occupying the 
narrow sea-board ; the other the exploring backwoodsmen, in- 
vaders of the primeval forest. Among the latter Washington 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 371 

spent most of the three years of his surveyor's life. He 
learned intimately their habits and manners ; and when after- 
wards he was called upon to enroll an army drafted largely 
upon this hardy and independent race, he was the only leader 
thoroughly capable of commanding them. Among the rough 
and sturdy foresters he inured himself to the utmost simplicity 
of life. He won their sympathy by mixing in their contests of 
agility and strength, and compelled their admiration by his own 
surpassing skill, strength, and intrepidity. In his surveying 
excursions he also acquired that mastery in horsemanship 
which was the envy of his brother officers and companions. 
Afterwards, as a military leader, every one declared that he 
possessed an ease, dignity, and control of the animal which 
they never saw elsewhere. Among other anecdotes told of his 
equestrian accomplishments, it is related that when a youth 
there was on his mother's estate a young horse so wild, fierce, 
and powerful that no one could be found able or willing to 
break him. Several strong and experienced horsemen had 
been utterly baffled. Immediately, on hearing of the circum- 
stance, George resolved on trying his hand with the colt. The 
experiment took place before a crowd of spectators. By the 
usual stratagems he succeeded in coaxing the animal near 
enough for him to spring upon his back. Instantly the horse 
leaped into the air. and dashed round the field, flinging, rear- 
ing, and kicking with the greatest violence. But George kept 
his seat firmly and steadily. Away flew the enraged and frantic 
creature wildly, from point to point, — plunging, rearing, and 
foaming. It was all in vain ; George could not be dislodged. 
At last the noble animal, whose spirit was as indomitable as 
that of his rider, gave one desperate and mighty leap and fell 
dead to the earth. 

Washington's experience in the backwoods also brought him 
much into contact with the Indians. All along the colonial 
frontier no subject contributed so much to the every-day 
thoughts and conversation of the settlers as their relations to 
the savage tribes which hovered about their clearings. Wash- 
ington knew the character of the wily and implacable red-skin, 



372 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

and the best manner of dealing with him. His training for the 
coming destiny was marvellous. Another and by no means 
unimportant quality as a soldier which this training gave him 
was the skill in estimating rapidly the features of an extensive 
country. He possessed at the outset of his career an accom- 
plishment which is usually one of the last attainments of a 
general, and the result of long experience in the conduct and 
arrangement of large bodies of men. 

In his nineteenth year he was appointed a major of the 
militia then being trained, and adjutant-general in one of the 
districts of Virginia, and thus entered upon the second period 
of his probation. At this time the frontier was threatened with 
Indian depredations and French encroachments. France had 
just unfolded her ambitious design of connecting Canada with 
Louisiana, and in this way enclosing within a French cordon 
the British colonies in North America. The army was directed 
to establish a line of posts from the lakes to the Ohio. This 
district the English maintained to lie within the boundaries of 
Virginia. Dinwiddie, the lieutenant-governor of the province, 
alarmed by a movement which involved such important inter- 
ests, thought it proper officially to warn the French to desist 
from pressing their scheme, which he deemed a violation of 
existing treaties. The great difficulty was to select a proper 
agent to carry this perilous message. He must pass through 
an unexplored wilderness, tenanted by tribes of Indians, most 
of whom were hostile to the British settlers. In October, 1753, 
Washington, who had volunteered for the appointment, received 
his commission and commenced his journey. The peril and 
fatigue of this enterprise had not been overrated. But the 
judgment and perseverance displayed by Washington raised 
him still more in public opinion, and gave a reliable earnest of 
his future services. The next year he fought a superior force 
of the enemy, and brought off his own men by an honorable 
capitulation. Owing to an order from the War Office, which he 
rightly thought degrading to provincial officers, he resigned his 
commission; and as he had just succeeded to the estate at 
Mount Vernon, he retired thither, resolved to devote his life to 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 373 

agriculture and the study of philosophy. This resolution lasted 
about two months. Meantime he had been elected a member 
of the House of Burgesses, and found time for public as well as 
private duties. His chief rural amusement was hunting. He 
exported the produce of his farms to London, Liverpool, and 
Bristol, and imported everything required either in his house or 
on his estate. In the House of Burgesses, where his attendance 
was punctual, he seldom spoke ; but as he always made him- 
self master of the subject under discussion, his opinion was 
greatly valued and often sought by his colleagues. 

In 1755 Washington joined as a volunteer the army of Gen- 
eral Braddock, whose purpose it was to expel the French garri- 
son from Fort du Quesne, now Pittsburg. An overwhelming 
defeat of the British troops, followed by a rapid retreat from the 
field of battle, ended the campaign disastrously. Braddock was 
killed. Washington had two horses shot under him while carry- 
ing the general's orders through the thickest of the fight. He 
was repeatedly fired at by the enemy's Indian marksmen, who 
afterwards declared that the brave Long-knife bore a charmed life, 
and could not be harmed by their bullets. Providence seemed 
to have preserved him in a most signal manner in this instance. 

Such, in brief, was the moral and physical training of Wash- 
ington for the part that he was destined to play in the great 
coming struggle between Great Britain and her colonies. In 
1759 he married Mrs. Custis. His wife was a young widow 
lady with two little children and broad estates, which added to 
his own extensive property made him one of the most impor- 
tant land-owners in the province. With this independence of 
position, and his vast and varied experience, he ripened for the 
great task of first liberating and then governing a nation. 

In his forty-third year, just when the physical vigor is un- 
diminished and the intellect fully matured, he was elected com- 
mander-in-chief of all the colonial forces, and immediately re- 
paired to the scene of active hostilities before Boston. 

Seven years he maintained with heroic fortitude, under the 
severest trials that man could encounter, the cause for which 
he had unsheathed his sword at the call of his country. We 



374 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

know not whether to admire him most in the hour of defeat 
or in the moment of victory; for in every important crisis the 
demand upon his greatest qualities as a leader was always fully 
answered. With each new misfortune he rose to a still higher 
sense of the great responsibility he had assumed. When he 
had troops, he fought. When unable to keep the field, he took 
an advantageous and threatening defensive. When the hopes of 
the people were at their lowest ebb, and his army had dwindled 
to a few ragged battalions, he rolled the tide of war back again 
towards fortune by the most brilliant and decisive series of 
combats and manoeuvres that the whole history of the war has 
recorded. So high was Washington's bearing, so admirable his 
control of the most diverse elements, so serenely did he look 
disaster, obloquy, and suffering in the face, that we can hardly 
think of him except as the predestined savior of his country. 
The time produced no other man capable of confronting each 
new emergency with the same sublime constancy to the great 
end and aim of the Revolution. The Congress was at one 
time ready to declare him dictator. The army, grown des- 
perate in its deep distress and deeper disgust with the half 
measures of Congress, wished to overturn the existing civil 
control under the lead of its idolized chief. But in every dark 
hour Washington's star shone out bright and unsullied by any 
taint of personal ambition, nor could any sense of personal 
wrong turn him a hair's breadth from the path of duty. His was 
a great, a magnanimous soul. When the long conflict was over 
he laid down the sword that had never* been sheathed in dis- 
honor. His old companions in arms wept like children when 
he bade them farewell. Compared with this, what was the 
tribute of senates or the applause of the multitude? Indeed it 
may be said of Washington that there is scarcely another great 
figure in history whose character and services have been esti- 
mated with such unanimous, such high, approbation as his. 
His mottoes were, " Deeds, not words," and " For God and my 
country ; " and his adherence to these has merited the everlasting 
verdict of history, " First in war, first in peace, and first in the 
hearts of his countrymen." 



SCIENCE AND INVENTION, 




DR. WILLIAM HARVEY. 



DR. WILLIAM HARVEY. 

[Born 1578. Died 1657.] 

r I ""HE life of William Harvey is full of interest to every 
■*■ student of anatomy, physiology, and medicine. It closely 
concerns us all ; for before his time little was known of the 
human frame, and his discoveries have a practical bearing on 
the treatment of even the simplest complaint. Born at Folke- 
stone in 1578, Harvey had the inestimable advantage of good 
scholastic training. From the grammar-school at Canterbury he 
went to Caius College, Cambridge, in 1593, and, after studying 
logic and natural philosophy there six years, he subsequently 
resided in Padua, then a celebrated school of medicine, and at- 
tended lectures on anatomy, pharmacy, and surgery, delivered 
respectively by Fabricius al Aquapendente, Minadons, and Cas- 
serius. The common language of learned men at that time 
was Latin, in which Harvey himself composed his works. He 
wrote it, indeed, correctly and with elegance. In Padua he was 
admitted to the degree of Doctor of Medicine, and at the age 
of twenty-four he returned to England. It was in August, 161 5, 
that he was chosen by the College of Physicians to deliver his 
Lumleian lectures on anatomy arid surgery ; and he is supposed 
to have taken the earliest opportunity of bringing forward his 
views on the circulation of the blood, which he afterwards de- 
veloped more fully and published in 1628. The fact is that 
while studying at Padua a new world of observation had opened 
itself to Harvey's inquiring mind. His master, Fabricius, had 
called his attention to certain curious valves inside the veins, 
made by the folds of their lining. Why did they lie open when 
the blood was flowing towards the heart, and close up and bar 



378 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

the way the moment it was not flowing in that direction? Fa- 
bricius said it was only to prevent the blood rushing too fast into 
the branches of the veins ; but Harvey was not satisfied with 
this reason. By experiments which he made he found that the 
arteries carried blood from the heart, and the veins brought it 
back again ; hence the throbbing of the arteries charged with 
blood pumped fresh out of the heart and sent through the body. 

But this was far from being the whole of Harvey's discovery 
of the circulation of the blood. It was but half of it. After 
the blood has gone its first round, — the blood in the lower 
artery being returned to the heart by the lower vein, and the 
blood in the upper artery by the upper vein, — it starts upon a 
new circuit. Descending through some valves from the upper 
chamber, or auricle, of the heart to the lower, it takes its flow 
through the lungs and comes back by the pulmonary or lung- 
vein into the upper heart-chamber, from which the entire round 
begins afresh. The first journey is called the general circula- 
tion, and the second the pulmonary circulation, in which the 
change that the blood undergoes is of the most important kind. 
The blood which is carried becomes exposed to the action of 
the air by means of the capillary vessels; it loses carbonic-acid 
gas, which is poisonous, and absorbs oxygen, which is life- 
giving. This fact, it is true, was not known to Harvey ; but he 
prepared the way for its discovery by the substantial proofs he 
exhibited of the double circulation. 

Harvey, however, was not hasty in arriving at his conclusions. 
It was nineteen years before he traced the blood through all the 
channels of the body, and he felt quite certain that he had 
grasped truth without admixture of error. Yet he experienced 
the fate of all who are in advance of their fellows. The older 
physicians would not believe that he was in possession of truths 
which they had never taught or learnt; and Harvey told a friend 
he had lost many patients through his new discovery. But the 
unfortunate sovereign, Charles I., whose physician Harvey was, 
cannot be numbered among those prejudiced persons who op- 
posed him. The King, on the contrary, allowed him many 
opportunities of making physiological experiments by the help 



DR. WILLIAM HARVEY. 379 

of deer in the royal parks, took great interest in his scientific 
researches, and made him, for a time, head of Merton College, 
Oxford. But he was of a retiring disposition, and so averse to 
controversy that he could hardly be persuaded to publish his 
later investigations when he had become aware of the disputes 
and ill-will occasioned by his discovery of the circulation of the 
blood. 

With the exception of Gilbert's discovery of terrestrial mag- 
netism at the close of Elizabeth's reign, Harvey's was the only 
one of any real value proceeding from English research before 
the Restoration. But he did not fail to make his mark during 
his lifetime ; and having spoken of him in connection with Mer- 
ton College, Oxford, we may add that a knot of scientific men 
used to meet in that university about the year 1648, among 
whom the discoveries of Harvey used to form frequently the 
subject of conversation. They were Dr. Wallis, Dr. Wilkins 
the warden of Wadham, Dr. Ward the eminent mathema- 
tician, and the first of English economists Sir William Petty. 
" Our business," Wallis says, " was (precluding matters of theol- 
ogy and State affairs) to discourse and consider of philosophical 
inquiries and such as related- thereunto, as Physick, Anatomy, 
Geometry, Astronomy, Navigation, Statics, Magneticks, Chy- 
micks, Mechanicks, and Natural Experiments; with the state 
of these studies as then cultivated at home and abroad. We 
then discoursed of the circulation of the blood, the valves in 
the vencB lactecs, the lymphatic vessels, the Copernican hypothe- 
sis, the nature of comets and new stars, the satellites of Jupiter, 
the oval shape of Saturn, the spots on the sun and its turning 
on its own axis, the inequalities and selenography of the moon, 
the several phases of Venus and Mercury, the improvement of 
telescopes, the grinding of glasses for that purpose, the weight 
of air, the possibility or impossibility of vacuities and nature's 
abhorrence thereof, the Torricellian experiment in quicksilver, 
the descent of heavy bodies and the degree of acceleration 
therein, and divers other things of like nature." 

Harvey's inquiries into the subject of incubation, carried on, 
as they were, by means of a long and patient series of experi- 



380 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

raents, were of considerable value, though not to be compared 
in importance with those relating to the heart and lungs. It 
was this last which gave him his name among posterity, and 
which, by its novelty and boldness, aroused so lively an opposi- 
tion among his contemporaries. It is not surprising that he 
should speak of the things he had put forward as " so new and 
unheard of that I not only fear evil to myself from the ill-will 
of some, but I am afraid of having all men for my enemies, so 
much are persons influenced and led by habit, by doctrine once 
imbibed and rooted in them deeply like a second nature, and 
by a reverential regard for antiquity." Hence he was violently 
opposed by Primerosius, Parisanus, Pliolanus, and others. The 
last of these was the only adversary to whom he replied. Not 
a single physician over forty years of age admitted his dis- 
covery ; but Plempius, a Professor of Louvain, one of his early 
opponents, declared himself a convert, and, through his exam- 
ple, many more laid down their arms. Dr. George Ent, a Fellow 
of the College of Physicians, supported him, and replied to 
Parisanus. 

It was in 1623 that Harvey was appointed physician extraor- 
dinary to James I. ; and when I've- afterwards became physician 
to his son, Charles I., he was in the habit of exhibiting to his 
Majesty and to the most observant persons of his Court the 
motions of the heart and other phenomena on which his teach- 
ing was founded. During the civil war he moved about with 
the King from place to place; and it was while staying for a 
short time in Oxford that the King made him master of Merton, 
and, by an admission ad am dan, he received the degree of 
Doctor of Medicine. The mastership, however, was a very 
transient honor. In a few months the Puritan party regained 
the ascendancy and replaced Brent, whom the King had dis- 
placed. Soon after he suffered still more from the violent par- 
tisanship of the time. His house was burned and plundered, 
several unpublished works of his being unfortunately destroyed. 
This must have been a severe trial, and similar in its character 
to a distressing loss experienced by Sir Isaac Newton at a later 
period. The latter years of his life were spent at his country 




LINNAEUS. 



LINNAEUS. 381 

house at Lambeth, or with his brother, not far from Richmond. 
In 1654 he was elected President of the College of Physicians, 
but declined the office in consequence of his age and infirmi- 
ties. He presented, however, his library to the College, and 
also during his lifetime a farm which he had inherited from his 
father. He died at the venerable age of eighty in 1657; and a 
monument to his memory may be seen at Hampstead, in Essex, 
where he was buried. In 1766 the College of Physicians pub- 
lished his works in Latin, in a quarto volume ; and two manu- 
script works of his are preserved in the library of the British 
Museum. An admirable life of him has recently been published. 



LINN^US. 

[Born 1707. Died 1778.] 

T/^ARL LINNE, or, as he is usually called, Linnaeus, was 
-■-^ born on the 23d of May, 1707, at Rashalt, in Sweden. 
His father belonged to a race of peasants, but, having by his 
personal efforts raised himself to the position of pastor of the 
village or hamlet in which he lived, he followed an old Swedish 
custom common in such cases of adopting a surname, and 
called himself Nils Linne. Nils is the familiar Swedish for 
Nicholas, and Linne the name of the linden-tree. According 
to immemorial usage among the peasantry, the son of Nils 
would be Nilsson, and if he were Olaf, he would be called Olaf 
Nilsson, and so on. But with Nils the clergyman it was a dif- 
ferent matter. A favorite linden-tree in the village furnished 
the required surname, and henceforth himself and his chil- 
dren became Lindens. For a similar reason the good pastor's 
brother-in-law became Tiliander, or Lindenman. The choice 
was not made at random. Both Nicholas and his wife's 
brother were men of taste and culture, and both were tolerably 
proficient botanists. It so happened that the village manse was 



382 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

situated on the banks of a lovely lake in the midst of picturesque 
scenery. The clergyman cultivated fields and gardens, and 
probably found equal profit and pleasure in the occupation. 

Thus it was that the children grew up in the midst of every- 
thing that could awaken in them the love of nature or allure 
them towards its study. Such surroundings naturally fostered 
young Karl's fondness for plants or flowers, and, by displacing 
all other boyish tastes and ordinary studies, entirely upset the 
cherished parental design of making him a clergyman. The 
result, however, while it certainly disappointed, did not alto- 
gether displease, the elder Linne. He could not ignore his own 
tastes, nor the many fascinations to which the very homestead 
rendered the boy susceptible. Wisely judging remonstrance 
useless, he resolved to give him a fair opportunity for the 
cultivation of his special gifts. A corner of the spacious gar- 
den was marked off and assigned to Karl's separate use. He 
was to do with it as he pleased. And in a very short time he 
so crowded it with specimens gathered from wood and field 
that the indulgent gardener employed by his father could not 
possibly stand the invasion which threatened the rest of the 
property. Weeds of no possible economic, or so far as any 
one knew of any scientific, value were promoted to a dignity 
and permitted a space which daily encroached upon the pa- 
ternal allotment. The unfamiliar richness of the soil raised 
some of the merest vagabonds of the forest into a condition of 
luxuriant overgrowth. Useless or intrusive as they seemed to 
be, nevertheless they were material for the youthful botanist. 
He was the while making rapid progress in the acquirement of 
that practical knowledge which was essential as the groundwork 
of his future studies. He attempted a systematic arrangement ; 
but, either owing to his own desultory mode of working or the 
defective way in which many species had hitherto been noticed, 
the attempt failed. Many persons who have only heard of 
Linnaeus as the father of botany are still under the impression 
that no systematic knowledge of the subject existed before his 
time ; but this is a great mistake. Perhaps no study is of greater 
antiquity, or has attracted more devoted followers in all ages of 



LINN^US. 383 

the world's history. We all know that natural history was one of 
the important realms of science which made up the learning 
of Solomon. He knew every plant and tree, from the hyssop 
of the garden wall to the venerable cedar which crowned the 
summits of Lebanon. Among the Greeks, Romans, and Ara- 
bians botany was ever a favorite pursuit. The names of Aris- 
totle, Dioscorides, Pliny, Al Razi, and Avicenna attest the 
importance of the study in ancient and mediaeval times. Yet 
it must be admitted that no very great progress was made by 
any of the older naturalists. It is calculated that all the spe- 
cies ever discovered or described by all the Greek, Roman, 
or Arabian botanists put together did not exceed fourteen 
hundred. The first herbarium on a methodical plan was pub- 
lished in 1530 by Otho Brunfels, of Mentz. The first botanic 
garden in Europe was opened in 1536 on the banks of the Po 
in Italy. The work of Brunfels was the earliest modern work 
which was founded mainly on observation. Herbals, it is true, 
compiled from Latin or Arabic sources, had existed in mediaeval 
times. One of the first printed books was a treatise on domestic 
medicines, thus early put to the press because of its popularity; 
but nothing of a really scientific character had appeared since 
the time of Pliny. In 1 55 1 came out the Herbal of Jerome 
Bock, in which natural resemblances were made the basis of 
classification. Conrad Gessner, of Zurich, introduced the im- 
portant distinctions known as " genera" in a great work written 
as early as 1565, but not published for nearly two hundred 
years. Csesalpinus, of Arezzo, printed at Florence in 1583 a 
mass of suggestions and observations in botany which remained 
nearly a century before they were noticed as of scientific value. 
In fact, one writer after another adopted this or that method of 
his predecessors, and fitted it to his own peculiar theory. 
Charles de l'Ecluse, or Clusius, first taught that conciseness 
of description which has since threatened to become almost 
algebraical in its strictness and severity. Clusius, by the way, 
tells us some rather curious facts, which are still not generally 
known. Among the rest he asserts that potatoes were well 
known and in common use in Italy in the sixteenth century. 



384 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

The popular opinion is that Sir Walter Raleigh brought them 
with tobacco from Virginia, and that the English were the first 
Europeans to appreciate their value. Just previous to Linne's 
own time had appeared the great works of Ray, Tournefort, 
and Vaillant. Jussieu was his contemporary ; so was Boerhaave ; 
so was Reaumur. It will be seen, then, that botany was not 
without scientific advocates. But it was not very early in life 
Linne's good fortune to meet with any of the latest writers. 
His boyish guides were one or two old folios, of whose de- 
ficiencies he bitterly complained. Had he met earlier with 
Tournefort's " Elements of Botany," his own acquirements 
would have been more easily obtained, but they would probably 
never have been so solid and so profound. Tournefort's book 
is a perfect treasury of botanical lore. In fact, it has been 
said that with its aid alone the student might become a bot- 
anist, so correctly is the work illustrated, and so fully are its 
different headings dealt with. Yet, in view of a perfectly 
scientific classification, not only Tournefort, but every other 
writer, except perhaps Jussieu, is essentially deficient. To 
be at once scientific and not to some extent artificial is, 
without almost unbounded knowledge, practically impossible. 
It is therefore a question more or less of expediency ; and on 
this ground are the respective merits of the various botanical 
systems fairly comparable. 

It was when studying as a boy of eleven at the school of 
Wexio that Karl Linne's unfitness for the Church was finally 
admitted. The schoolmaster pronounced him a dunce, and 
recommended his being apprenticed to some handicraft, where- 
upon the simple-minded father actually contemplated making 
him a shoemaker. A Dr. Rothmann, who was professor of 
medicine to the Wexio College, had noticed the peculiar genius 
of the misplaced student, and offered to take him into his own 
house. Here he first met witfr " Tournefort's Elements," which 
increased his ardor while it enlarged his views. But even yet 
he could not arrange his collections. Three years a student at 
Wexio, he was no nearer a learned profession at the end of his 
term than he had been at the commencement. And now 



LINN^US. 385 

began a period of hardship such as only occasionally falls to 
the lot of youths of his position in life. Following the advice 
of Dr. Rothmann, he visited Upsal, with the view of pursuing 
his studies in the university; but he. soon found that his slen- 
der means — he had taken with him £8 — were wofully insuf- 
ficient even for the most modest computation of student life in 
a university city. As for employment in tuition or otherwise, 
every day rendered that less and less possible, as his wardrobe 
grew daily less presentable. Though he gained a scholarship, 
it was too small to be of essential service, and he felt most 
keenly the necessity to which he was reduced of accepting from 
his fellow-students a cast-off garment or a proffered dinner. 
Even the old shoes they gave him had to be patched by his 
own hands with pieces of pasteboard. Private pupils to this 
dilapidated stranger were out of all question, and he sank lower 
and lower in poverty. His father could not support him, and 
he knew of no one to whom he dared apply even for food or 
shelter. Imagine the sufferings of the susceptible and ardent 
youth during those weary days, which good old Dr. Rothmann 
had pictured as likely to be full of happy student life and gilded 
with successful tutorships. All this dreadful time, however, he 
still hoped for a bright future ; for he resolved to become great 
in his seemingly most unprofitable subject, and his strong relig- 
ious principles kept him from giving up the struggle. In the 
autumn of 1729 Linne was one day very intently examining 
certain plants in the garden of the academy when he was ac- 
costed by a venerable clergyman, who asked him a variety of 
questions about botany, if he knew anything of it, and how long 
he had studied the science. He replied to every question with 
such intelligence that the questioner became deeply interested. 
Linne told him that he possessed a cabinet containing above 
six hundred indigenous plants. The clergyman, now quite 
delighted, invited him to his house, and on learning his condi- 
tion supplied him with every necessary, and asked his assist- 
ance on a work on which he was engaged. Thus began a 
lasting friendship between Linne and the celebrated Dr. Olaus 
Celsius. Other advantages soon followed ; with an improved 

25 



386 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

outfit prosperity at once dawned. The son of the professor of 
botany in the university, Dr. Rudbeck, and other young men, 
became his pupils. Fresh books became accessible, and new 
ideas crowded upon him. From a treatise of Vaillant on the 
structure of flowers he first caught the idea of the sexes of 
plants, on which he afterwards founded his own botanical sys- 
tem. Shortly afterwards, attracting the notice of Rudbeck, he 
was appointed deputy lecturer and demonstrator of practical 
botany in the Public Garden. A pleasant manner and an ani- 
mated style of lecturing soon made him a great favorite with 
the students, but his rapid success was the cause of envy in 
others. He possessed those two invaluable qualifications of 
success, great powers of mind united with great physical endur- 
ance. Hence, when the Arctic Survey was suggested as a 
means of improving the natural history of Sweden, the Upsal 
Royal Academy of Sciences selected Linne, or as he began to 
be called, according to Swedish learned practice, Linnaeus, as 
a proper person to be intrusted with the undertaking. Thus 
came about his journey to Lapland, his own account of which, 
from its intensely personal character and its fulness of incident, 
may claim a parallel with the celebrated " Personal Narrative 
of Alexander von Humboldt." Both accounts are interesting 
in the extreme, not merely from the eminence of the writers, 
but from their combination of personal adventure with scientific 
investigation. Among other valuable results of this extraor- 
dinary journey, undertaken on a vote of less than £8 sterling, 
and embracing a route of no fewer than three thousand eight 
hundred English miles, was a knowledge of assaying metals, 
a subject quite new to the students of Upsal University. In 
the following year he gave private lectures upon it. 

On his return from Lapland he had been elected a member 
of the Academy; but, not having taken his degree, he was 
legally disqualified from lecturing, and for once in his life Lin- 
naeus, though usually a most amiable man, was in great dan- 
ger of expulsion from the university, through his resentment 
towards a rival tutor who envied his success, and took advan- 
tage of the statutes to prohibit his taking pupils. Linnaeus in 



LINNAEUS. 387 

consequence was again thrown upon a prospect of poverty, for 
these pupils were his sole means of support. Learning his cir- 
cumstances, several of them delicately proposed an excursion 
to the mines of Fahlun, in Dalecarlia. This was in 1733, when 
he was in his twenty-sixth year. After another journey with 
the sons of the governor of the province he returned to Fahlun 
and spent some time lecturing on mineralogy. At this time he 
made the acquaintance of a physician, and, what was of more 
consequence to himself, fell deeply in love with the physician's 
daughter. But he was still without a degree ; and as this was a 
sine qua non towards practising as a physician, the profession to 
which he now turned his attention, he had no prospect of being 
able to marry. He was, however, accepted by the lady, whose 
rank and beauty had, he at first thought, placed her utterly 
beyond his reach. Her father recommended him to abandon 
botany as a useless and unprofitable pursuit, and keep to med- 
icine, or he would never be able to maintain a wife. But he 
could not afford to take his degree at Upsal ; and although 
his betrothed sent him a hundred dollars saved out of her 
own private pocket-money, he was obliged to seek a cheaper 
university. 

The following year (1735) he graduated as M.D. at Harder- 
wyck, in Holland, and began a tour through the principal cities, 
making many new friends and writing several fresh treatises. 
Among the friendships he formed at Leyden were those of 
Gronovius and Boerhaave. By the advice and help of the for- 
mer he published his " Systema Naturae," and by the recom- 
mendation of the latter was introduced to Mr. Cliffort, the 
burgomaster of Amsterdam, in whose service, as keeper of the 
museums and gardens, he found the most congenial occupation 
he had ever known. At Cliffort's request Boerhaave gave his 
young protege a letter of introduction to Sir Hans Sloane, in 
London, and accordingly Linnaeus visited the famous old physi- 
cian and collector. His reception was by no means cordial ; 
but before he left England he had gained the friendship of 
those who at first treated him with coldness and suspicion. 
By and by came a journey to Paris, with an introductory letter 



388 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

to Antoine de Jussieu. The meeting was rather curious. On 
his arrival in Paris he proceeded at once to the Jardin des 
Plantes, where Bernard de Jussieu, a skilful botanist, was de- 
scribing some exotics. Fortunately for Linnaeus, who knew 
no French, the description was in Latin. One of the plants 
seemed rather to puzzle the lecturer. Linnaeus, who to this 
moment had looked on in silence, noticing the embarrassment 
of the professor, exclaimed also in Latin, " It looks like an 
American plant." Jussieu, surprised, turned quickly round and 
said, "You are Linnaeus," and in presence of all the students 
gave him a cordial welcome. 

In French circles, as in England, his claims were at first met 
with sneers, and he was spoken of as " a young enthusiast 
whose only merit consisted in having reduced botany to a state 
of anarchy." But he was respected before he left. On his 
return to Sweden he hastened to Fahlun, and thence to Stock- 
holm ; but the homage he had received abroad had somewhat 
turned his head. He thought himself slighted, and had it not 
been for the physician's daughter at Fahlun, he would have 
quitted his native land. A mere trifle helped to keep him at 
home. During the prevalence of an influenza he visited the 
lady of an Aulic councillor, and prescribed for her a portable 
and facile remedy. This lady being one day in the presence of 
the Queen, Ulrica Eleonora, the latter observed her quietly 
putting something into her mouth. Her Majesty's inquiries led 
to information about the young doctor, and he was sent for to 
prescribe for a cough under which she herself was suffering. 
He succeeded in removing the cough, and suddenly found 
himself a fashionable physician. 

Prosperity now set in for good and all. On June 26, 1739, 
he married the daughter of Dr. Moraeus, at Fahlun, and shortly 
afterwards received the professorship of medicine at the Upsal 
University. His old enemy, Rosen, at the same time became 
professor of botany. By this time, however, a reconciliation 
had taken place, and an arrangement was made by which 
Rosen undertook anatomy and physiology, and Linnaeus bot- 
any, materia medica, and natural history. Next came his 






LINN^US. 389 

appointment to the Botanic Garden, founded by the elder 
Rudbeck, and a command from the King to arrange and de- 
scribe the royal collections. With the Queen he became a 
special favorite ; for his knowledge was inexhaustible, and she 
was devotedly fond of natural history. 

In 1757, after an offer from the King of Spain of a most flat- 
tering character, he was raised to the rank of a nobleman, and 
took the title of Von Linne. The year afterwards he bought 
a country mansion and property, — an event to which he had 
always looked forward as the summit of his ambition. In this 
place, surrounded by lovely gardens, he spent the last years of 
his laborious life. In 1776, after enjoying a long period of im- 
munity from every ailment except gout, — and this he relieved 
by eating wild strawberries, — he had an attack of apoplexy. 
The next year he had. another, and after it a long illness which 
terminated in his death on the 10th of January, 1778. 

In speaking of Linnaeus as a benefactor, the following words 
of Professor Whewell will place his claims on a better footing 
than any title based merely upon his services to natural history 
as a special branch of study: " By the good fortune of having 
had a teacher with so much delicacy of taste as Linnaeus, in a 
situation of so much influence, botany possesses a descriptive 
language ivhich will long stand as a model for all other subjects." 
The nomenclature, or naming of species, was a work of im- 
mense toil, and was the result of explorations of the most 
varied kind. Not only his own travels, but the friends he had 
all over the world, furnished him with the specimens necessary 
for his investigations, so that his knowledge of the mere facts 
of the science and of kindred branches of natural history was 
immense. The services he rendered the sciences of zoology 
and medicine were by no means trifling, but they are dwarfed 
when placed beside the enormously greater services he rendered 
to all future scientists by the wonderful completeness of his 
method. 1 

1 It may be worth noticing that the catalogue of the British Museum contains 
no fewer than four hundred and twenty-four separate notices of works relating to 
Linnaeus. 



390 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



BARON HUMBOLDT. 

[Born 1769. Died 1S59.] 

A GREAT traveller, like a great poet, must be born, not 
made. Yet it is not given to every one who has the in- 
born taste for travel to gratify his wish. As the old-world 
adage expressed it, Non cuivis homini contingit adire CorintJium. 
To one are given ample means and favorable opportunities, 
but they are made no use of. The proprietor lacks enterprise ; 
he has no desire to leave his native shores; the wonders of 
far-off lands for him possess no charms. Another is devoured 
with a passionate and insatiable yearning, but it is accompa- 
nied by no hopeful dawn of opportunity. A rare few, by the 
exercise of an indomitable perseverance, may indeed create a 
way ; but it is not the way which, had they been free to choose, 
they would deliberately have selected. Happy, then, is he 
to whom Nature has given the will and for whom Fortune 
has provided the way. Such a man was Frederick Henry 
Alexander von Humboldt. He was the second son of Major 
Alexander von Humboldt, a gentleman of considerable prop- 
erty, and was born at Berlin on the 14th of September, 1769. 
The year of his birth gave also to the world Napoleon, Wel- 
lington, Cuvier, and Chateaubriand. His childhood was spent 
at the chateau of Tegel, about three leagues from Berlin, in the 
midst of romantic scenery and on the shores of a beautiful 
lake. He began his education with his brother William, after- 
wards celebrated as a statesman and philologist, under the 
famous Joachim Henry Campe, critic, philologist, and translator 
of " Robinson Crusoe." Campe's method seems to have been 
such as would be appreciated at the present day. He looked 
upon physical development as of equal importance with mental, 




BARON HUMBOLDT. 



BARON HUMBOLDT. 391 

and believed that the study of science was as essential as the 
study of classics or philosophy. But the one thing which en- 
deared him to the sons of Major von Humboldt was his 
translation of " Robinson Crusoe." Its perusal filled Alexander's 
already excited fancy with an eager longing for a life of explo- 
ration and adventure. At the end of one year Campe left them, 
and another tutor was found, who carefully continued the work 
so favorably begun. From Tegel they proceeded to the Uni- 
versity of Gottingen, then noted for the exceptional learning of 
its professors. Among these were Blumenbach, who occupied 
the chair of physiology and comparative anatomy ; Heyne, who 
taught classics and philology; and Eichborn, the biblical 
scholar and orientalist. At Gottingen Alexander made the 
acquaintance of an actual explorer. George Forster, Ffeyne's 
son-in-law, as a youth of eighteen, had sailed with Captain 
Cook round the world, and had seen with his own eyes the 
very things read about in " Crusoe." The companionship of 
Forster, therefore, decided Alexander von Humboldt's course 
of life. He resolved to become a traveller. After a brief con- 
tinuance of scientific study, the two friends made a tour of the 
Rhine valley and .through Holland, carefully examining the 
mineralogy of the localities traversed by the great historic 
stream of the Fatherland. From Holland they passed over 
into England. On his return Humboldt published a brochure 
entitled " Observations on the Basalts of the Rhine," written 
in support of the VVernerian or aqueous theory of rock- 
formation. 

His next departure was for Freiburg, in order to learn from 
the lips of Werner himself as much as possible of the new 
science of geology. After two years' close application, as- 
sisted by frequent explorations of the mineralogy and botany 
of the neighborhood, he produced his second book, " Specimen 
Florae Friborgensis Subterraneae." This work obtained for him 
an appointment as Inspector of the Mines of Bayreuth-Anspach, 
in Franconia, and a seat at the Board of the Mining Council of 
Berlin. During the tenure of his inspectorship he founded 
the Public School at Streben. His duties included perpetual 



392 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

descents and examinations of the workings, enabling him to 
add largely to his practical knowledge. But the field was too 
narrow for his grasping intellect. In 1795 he resigned his 
appointments, and set out on a journey through Switzerland 
and Italy. To Italy he was drawn by the extraordinary dis- 
coveries of Galvani, at that time the talk of the scientific world. 
He visited the Italian savant, and repeated his experiments to 
the extent of submitting personally to painful and even dan- 
gerous operations in order to test for himself the truth of 
Galvani's conclusions. 

About this time the death of his widowed mother led to the 
division of the large patrimony between the brothers. William, 
already married, resided in Paris. Alexander obtained his 
share only to dispose of it in order to increase his means for 
travel. After publishing the results of his studies in galvanism 
in a little book annotated by Professor Blumenbach, he is next 
found deep in the study of exotic botany at Vienna. Then 
comes a journey with the celebrated Leopold von Buch through 
Salzburg, Styria, and the Tyrol ; but he was prevented from 
revisiting Italy by the war. In 1797, in company with a Mr. 
Fischer, he visited his brother in Paris, in which city he was 
destined to form an acquaintance which influenced many years 
of his life. Being already well known to scientific men, he was 
at once introduced to the most distinguished circles of the 
polite and learned capital. In these gatherings he first met 
Aime Bonpland, a modest but highly gifted French botanist. 
The two students soon discovered that they possessed many 
qualities in common. Both were ardent, enthusiastic, and 
more than ordinarily versed in physical science ; both possessed 
a special fondness for botany, and both were born travellers. 
But there was one serious difference, — Bonpland was poor. 
Happily Humboldt was rich, and he proposed a scheme of 
visiting the remoter continents. What should hinder their 
travelling together? Bonpland at first declined, being reluctant 
to become a burden on his generous friend. But Humboldt 
insisted. Accordingly they went as far as Marseilles to await the 
arrival of a vessel to take them across the Atlantic. After 



BARON HUMBOLDT. 393 

remaining for two months the expected frigate was found to 
have been so injured by a storm as to be unable to proceed. 
Humboldt therefore went forward to Madrid, his companion 
preferring to return to Paris until a more favorable occasion. 
In Madrid the fame of Humboldt's acquirements procured for 
him a most flattering reception. He was presented at Court, 
and in an interview with the King obtained free permission to 
visit and explore all the Spanish dominions in America. With 
this presage of success, Humboldt immediately wrote to Bon- 
pland, who lost no time in joining the proposed expedition. 
Well furnished with the necessary scientific instruments, the 
two friends proceeded to Corunna, whence, on the 5th of June, 
1799, they set sail in a Spanish corvette named the " Pizarro." 
They made a stay of several days at Teneriffe for the purpose 
of ascending the celebrated Peak, and making observations on 
the condition of the volcano and the natural history of the 
island. After a most successful exploration they resumed the 
voyage, noting both by day and night the ever-changing phe- 
nomena of sea and sky. By the 16th of July they reached 
Cumana, on the northeast coast of South America. Their 
first excursion was to the peninsula of Araya, and thence to the 
missionary stations in the mountains, where they were hos- 
pitably entertained. In these places it was the rule to consider 
every German a miner, and every Frenchman a doctor. This 
gave each of them plenty of occupation wherever they went, 
specimens of ore and of ailments being extremely plentiful. After 
some little time spent in examining the botany of Caraccas, they 
pursued their journey to the Llanos, or Great Plains, penetrating 
to the mission stations on the Orinoco. They next ascended 
that mighty river as far as the Rio Negro, and returned by way 
of Angostura to Cumana. Among places afterwards visited 
were Cuba,' Carthagena, and the Maddalena, Santa Fe de 
Bogota, Popayan, and Quito. From the latter city, the highest 
in the world, they proceeded to the Cordilleras, and ascended 
the great equatorial volcano of Chimborazo. In this famous 
attempt they reached the highest point hitherto attained by 
man, recording a barometrical reading equivalent to 19,798 



394 



OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



English feet. A deep chasm in the snow sixty feet across 
prevented their gaining the summit ; but they saw it through 
the breaking mist, and ascertained by observation that it rose a 
further height of 1,429 feet. It has since been estimated as 
somewhat higher. Though the loftiest peak in Ecuador, it is 
surpassed by three others in the whole range, — Sahama and 
Gualatieri, in Bolivia, and Aconcagua, in Chili. The last rises 
to the enormous altitude of 23,910 feet, and is still 6,000 feet 
lower than the highest point of the Himalayas. From Quito 
they went southward to Truxillo, and along the coast of that 
rainless land until they reached Lima. At Callao they made a 
successful observation of the transit of Mercury. Leaving Lima, 
they explored the coast to Guayaquil, and thence across by 
sea-route to Acapulco and Mexico. Mexico they traversed 
from side to side, inspecting antiquities, listening to traditions, 
and writing down folk-lore. After a rest of two months on 
their return to Havana, we find them again voyaging to the 
United States, and shortly afterwards busy inquiring into the 
commercial and political relations of the different cities of 
the Union, particularly Philadelphia and Washington. In 1804 
they returned to Europe. 

Such is a rapid sketch of the most famous journey of explo- 
ration perhaps ever recorded. It is certainly by far the richest 
in reliable information. Six thousand different species of plants 
were among the spoils of the expedition. But the great value 
of the five years' journey was the vast body of scientific inves- 
tigations, the innumerable physical facts, the voluminous records 
of observations, made by the cultivated and enthusiastic trav- 
ellers. Under the influence of Humboldt's poetic genius the 
dry records of scientific phenomena become transformed into 
brilliant pictures. H;s descriptions glow with the fervor of a 
genuine artistic imagination. 

The " Personal Narrative " of the journey was published on 
the return of the travellers to Paris, and was shortly afterwards 
translated into English by Mrs. Williams. The " Edinburgh 
Review " was warm in its praises, and profuse in congratulations 
on the good fortune of the age in possessing a " traveller armed 



BARON HUMBOLDT. 395 

at all points, and completely accomplished for the purpose of 
physical, moral, and political information, ... an astronomer, 
physiologist, botanist, one versed in statistics and political 
economies, a metaphysician, antiquary, and a learned philologist, 
possessing at the same time the enlarged views, the spirit, and 
the tone of true philosophy." * 

Profoundly interesting, even to an unscientific reader, the 
"Personal Narrative" abounds with passages which arrest the 
most casual glance and fix the attention, till the reader becomes 
absorbed in the intense and sustained current of ideas. The 
literature of every nation is drawn into the fascinating story; 
and while the fancy is still charmed with some wondrous fact of 
nature, there flashes upon the page some brilliant and beau- 
tiful quotation from a favorite poet. The sight of the Southern 
Cross reminds the traveller of a splendid passage in Dante, — 

" Io mi volsi a man destra e posi mente 
All 1 altro polo e vidi quattro stelle," 2 

and so on. The expression of the guides, " 'T is past midnight, 
— the Cross bends," has been often quoted ; and this again brings 
to mind an incident in " Paul and Virginia." If one allusion 
misses the reader, another is sure to attract him. The widest 
and most varied reading alone can hope to keep adequate pace 
with the far-glancing mind of this master of description. 

For twenty years after his return he lived quietly in Berlin, 
with occasional visits to Paris, but with scarcely any sign of 
literary activity. Being urgently requested by the Czar, he 
undertook at sixty years of age an expedition to Siberia and 
the shores of the Caspian. It was to some extent a fulfilment 
of a project formed many years before, when King Frederick 
William III., partly for this purpose, partly in recognition of 
his distinguished services, had granted him a pension of 12,000 
thalers and an appointment in the palace. In 1842 he came in 
the royal train to England, and was present at the christening 

1 Edinburgh Review, vol. xxiv. p. 134; vol. xxv. p. 88. 

2 " I turned me to the right-hand, and fixed my mind on the other pole, and saw 
four stars." 



396 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

of the Prince of Wales. On his return he began to shape his 
great work, the " Kosmos," the final proofs of which he was 
still correcting in 1858. 

In person he was rather below the middle height, but robust 
and massive in build, with a clear blue eye, square brow, and a 
profusion of chestnut hair, not thinned with advancing age, but 
changed to a mass of snowy whiteness. He died on the 6th of 
May, 1859, and was buried beside his parents and brother at 
Tegel. A public ceremony in Berlin enabled the many who 
honored his character to pay their last tribute of respect to his 
memory. His life was indeed one of the most useful that man 
could hope to spend ; yet in one of his last letters he writes, 
" I live joyless because of all I have striven for from my youth 
I have accomplished so little." 



JOHN SMEATON. 

[Born 1724. Died 1792.] 

ON some rocks named the Eddystones (probably so called 
from the whirl or eddy which is occasioned by the 
waters striking against them), about fourteen miles from Ply- 
mouth, stands the world-renowned lighthouse built by the great 
engineer Smeaton. 

Before proceeding to the subject of the illustration, a few re- 
marks on the lighthouses that were previously erected on these 
fatal rocks may be interesting. 

The Eddystone rocks are never very much above the sea, 
and at high water are entirely covered by it. For centuries 
they were the most dangerous obstacle in the navigation of the 
Channel. As may be imagined, the erection of a light on such 
a position was a work of very great difficult)'. Every year 
showed, by the number of wrecks, the absolute need of a mar- 
iners' warning; but nothing was done until about 1696. At last 
a Mr. Henry Winstanley, of Littlebury, in Essex, — a retired mcr- 




JOHN SMEATON. 



JOHN SMEATON. 397 

cer and man of private means, but who had never received any 
education as an engineer or architect, — undertook the task which 
eventually cost him his life. He was a man who had a natural 
genius for mechanical pursuits, but he was essentially an ama- 
teur. It has almost become a proverb that " amateur work is 
always bad work," and it certainly proved so in his case. He 
began building the first Eddystone Lighthouse in 1696, and, in 
spite of very great difficulties, it was finished in four years. 
The design seems to have been the wildest idea that ever en- 
tered the mind of man. It was about one hundred feet high, 
polygonal (or many-cornered), built of wood, richly orna- 
mented, and it had vanes, cranes, etc., presenting more the ap- 
pearance of a Chinese pagoda than anything else. It was, 
though in the midst of a desolate sea, painted with mottoes of 
various kinds, such as " Post Tenebras Lux," " Glory be to 
God," " Pax in Bello." Perhaps he thought the last motto 
was suggestive of the intense strength of the building, standing 
amidst the wild war of the waters. It had a kitchen, rooms for 
the keepers, a chamber of state finely decorated, and a bed- 
room to match. There is a very scarce print in existence in 
which is a representation of this whimsical man absolutely fish- 
ing from the state-room window. He was warned over and 
over again by them " that go down to the sea in ships," that he 
had offered too much surface for the angry waves to beat upon; 
but he was so wrapped up in his hobby that he declared his 
willingness (in fact, his desire) to be in the lighthouse during 
the greatest storm that ever visited the Channel. He had his 
wish. He was in the lighthouse superintending some repairs, 
when a storm arose which swept the fantastic building away, 
and with it six unfortunate souls, including, of course, the archi- 
tect. There was nothing left of the building itself the next 
morning; beams, iron bars, etc., were all carried away. The 
only item remaining was a piece of iron cable. This had got 
wedged into a crevice of the rock, and there it remained until it 
was cut out by Smeaton's workmen more than fifty years after- 
wards. The said piece of chain is still in existence in a private 
collection. 



398 



OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



Apropos of this fearful storm, Addison, in writing a poem on 
the victory of Blenheim, used it as a simile in a very powerful 
manner. He compares the Duke of Marlborough, directing 
the current of the great action, to the Spirit of the Storm : — 

" So when an angel by divine command 
With rising tempests shakes a guilty land, 
Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past, 
Calm and serene he drives the furious blast ; 
And pleased th' Almighty's orders to perform, 
Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm." 

This so pleased one of the ministry, that Addison received his 
first public appointment, the Commissionership of Appeals. 

The rocks remained desolate ; no one came forward to erect 
another signal light after such a catastrophe. About two years 
later a homeward-bound ship from Virginia, the " Winchelsea," 
struck on the Eddystones, and every soul perished. In 1706 a 
Captain Lovett (or Lovell) petitioned Parliament for an act to 
grant him a lease of the rocks for ninety-nine years. Strange 
to say, the builder he selected had not been brought up to that 
calling. Captain Lovett (or Lovell) selected a Mr. John Rud- 
yerd, a silk-mercer ; this time, of Ludgate Hill. There is no 
evidence as to the talent Rudyerd had displayed that he should 
have been selected for this task. The building he proposed was 
very different from its predecessor: it was not so high, being but 
ninety feet, and it was perfectly round ; it was also built of wood. 
Strange as it may appear, though it encountered some partic- 
ularly severe storms, — one on the 26th of September, 1744, es- 
pecially, — it stood till December, 1755. Early in the morning 
of the 2d of December of that date, one of the keepers (the 
other two being asleep) went up to snuff the candles; on open- 
ing the light chamber he found it full of smoke, and the draught 
rushing in through the open doorway fanned the smouldering 
soot into flames. He called loudly for his companions, but 
they could not hear him. He tried his utmost to extinguish the 
fire by throwing water from a large tub which always stood on 
the floor of the room, but the fire was four feet above him. 
When his companions did join him they could do but little, as 



JOHN SMEATON. 399 

the}- had to go down and ascend a height of seventy feet before 
they could get the water to throw up to the flames. But the 
man who first discovered the fire remained at his post. His 
name was Henry Hall, aged ninety-four, but full of health and 
vigor. As he stood at his post, the lead from the roof became 
melted, and poured down in a torrent over his head and shoul- 
ders. Driven by this from the spot, he and his companions fled 
down the staircase and took refuge in a cave or hole in one of 
the rocks. Luckily it was low water, or they would have been 
lost. Some fishermen having seen the fire gave the alarm on 
shore, and crowds of boats were sent to their assistance. About 
eleven o'clock they arrived, but it was most difficult to get the 
refugees off the rock where they had taken shelter; by throw- 
ing a rope and dragging them through the water, they were 
rescued. One of the three disappeared as soon as he landed, 
and was never heard of afterwards. 

By this time the proprietors of the rock and of its rights had 
greatly increased in numbers ; they therefore felt it to their in- 
terest to erect another lighthouse immediately. A Mr. Weston, 
one of their number, applied to Lord Maccles.field, the President 
of the Royal Society, to nominate an engineer. His lordship 
strongly recommended Smeaton, and after the usual opposition 
which is sure to crop up when great talent has a chance to 
come to the front, he was selected to erect the third and present 
building. Smeaton had been apprenticed to a mathematical- 
instrument maker, but left that calling to become a civil engi- 
neer. He was to a great extent a self-educated man. 

When he received the appointment to undertake the great 
work he was in Northumberland ; but he arrived in London in 
February, 1756. He started for Plymouth on the 22d of 
March following; but the roads being bad he did not arrive at 
his destination until the 27th. He remained in Plymouth nearly 
two months, constantly visiting the rocks. Having got the con- 
sent of his employers, he decided that the lighthouse should be 
of stone. He set about hiring workyards and workmen, en- 
tered into contracts for the different materials, and settled all 
other necessary arrangements. 



400 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

By the Sth of August everything was in readiness. The men 
were landed on the rock, and they immediately began cutting it 
for the foundation of the building. They could do no more 
than this the first season ; but the peril to the workmen was 
very great. 

The usual amount of hostile criticism was, of course, liberally 
showered on the great architect and engineer, and equally, of 
course, with the usual effect. Kind friends in crowds declared 
that no lighthouse, stone or otherwise, could ever stand on the 
Eddystone rocks. 

The first stone of the lighthouse was laid on the 12th of June, 
1757. The whole work was completed by August, 1759, and 
on the 9th of October following the building was finished. 

On the 1 6th of the same month the saving but warning light 
gleamed across the waters. Smeaton says in his own book : 
" Thus was the work completed in three years without the loss 
of life or limb to any one concerned in it, or accident by which 
the work could be said to be materially retarded. The work- 
men had only 421 days, comprising 2,674 hours, during which 
it was possible for them to remain on the rocks ; and the 
whole time which they had been at work there was only 1 1 1 days 
10 hours, or scarcely 16 weeks." 

Smeaton declares that he took the idea of the shape from an 
oak. It is a round building, gradually decreasing in circumfer- 
ence from the base and slightly increasing at the top. In Smea- 
ton's work are diagrams showing the horizontal sections, which 
are most interesting. The ingenuity and knowledge shown in 
the dovetailing of courses of stone is simply wonderful. Among 
other storms it has withstood is the celebrated one at the begin- 
ning of 1762. It was declared by one of the "good-natured 
friends" that we all possess, " that he was really obliged to con- 
fess that, as it had stood that storm, it would stand until Dooms- 
day." Smeaton's triumph was complete, and he stands in the 
history of all civilized nations as one of the greatest benefactors 
of our race. 

His lighthouse — unlike Winstanley's, swept from its founda- 
tion; unlike Rudyerd's, burnt to its foundation — stands firm 




SIR RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. 



SIR RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. 



401 



to this day, as strong as an oak ; and the reason it is about to be 
removed is the strangest part of its history, — the very rock it- 
self, the foundation on which Smeaton erected this noble work, 
is decaying, being in fact washed away by the waves. 

Many a man has been ennobled for his doughty deeds as a 
soldier, many for their acumen in the law; but what reward is 
sufficiently great for a Smeaton or such as he, who by their 
genius give us the means of saving most precious lives and 
render the great highway of the deep safer to the imperilled 
mariner ? 



SIR RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. 

[Born 1732. Died 1792.] 

A S the founder of the now enormous cotton-factory system 
-*■*- of the world, Arkwright confessedly takes rank among 
the most active and foremost of the benefactors of his country 
and of his race. The bringing to perfection of his spinning- 
jenny alone has rendered his name lasting; while his other 
improvements in machinery and modes of manufacture add to 
the lustre of his name and to the veneration with which his 
progress in manufacturing improvement is regarded. 

Born at Preston, in Lancashire, in 1732, Richard Arkwright 
was the youngest of a family of no less than thirteen children. 
His parents were so poor that he was never at school a single 
day, and grew up as best he might without help. As soon 
as old enough he was put to learn the trade of a barber, and 
.in 1760 commenced business for himself in an underground 
shop or cellar at Bolton, over the door of which, it is recorded, 
he put up a board bearing the words, " Come to the Subterra- 
neous Barber. He Shaves for a Penny," and by his low price 
got away much of the trade from the other shops in the town. 
To obviate this the others reduced their prices to a penny, 
when — and this was proof of the energy that characterized 

26 



402 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

him in later life — he immediately reduced his terms to half 
price, and announced the fact on his boards with the expressive 
words, " A Clean Shave for a Halfpenny ! " Afterwards Ark- 
wright became, it is said, a barber at Wirksworth, in Derbyshire 
(near to which place he afterwards founded his cotton mills), 
and then took to travelling about the country buying and selling 
hair. Attending "statute fairs," he bought their long tresses 
from the country girls who there offered themselves for hire as 
servants, and he also went to villages and towns for the same 
purpose, — buying up and cutting off the hair and selling it to 
the wig and peruke makers. From this and the sale of a 
hair-dye he is said to have made money, and to have done a 
profitable trade. 

Like many other men of his time, Arkwright caught the con- 
tagion of attempting the discovery of a " perpetual motion ; " 
and this led him to contriving other machines to the neglect of 
his business and the loss of his money, — a neglect that his 
impoverished wife not unnaturally resented, and in a fit of des- 
peration broke up his models as the only way she could devise 
of bringing back his attention to home and business. Provoked 
and wrathful beyond measure, Arkwright, whose character must 
have been harsh and vindictive in the extreme, and who had not 
learned the Christian principle of " forgive and forget," separated 
from her and never forgave the act. 

Having become acquainted with a clockmaker at Warrington, 
named Kay, and got him to assist in his " perpetual motion 
machine," Arkwright received from him some hints and par- 
ticulars regarding an invention of his own for spinning by 
rollers. " The idea at once took firm possession of his mind, 
and he proceeded to devise the process by which it was to be 
accomplished." To this he entirely devoted himself, and he 
and Kay constructed a machine which they set up in a room at 
Preston ; but, fearing its destruction by a mob, he first took it 
to Nottingham, where he obtained pecuniary aid from Messrs. 
Wright, the bankers, and afterwards, at their suggestion, to 
Jedediah Strutt, the inventor of the " Derby Ribbed Stocking 
Machine," and his partner Mr. Need. Mr. Strutt — himself, 



SIR RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. 403 

through his inventions, a no small benefactor of mankind, and 
the founder of the house ennobled in the person of one of his 
grandsons, Edward Strutt, by the title of Baron Belper — at 
once entered into a partnership with Arkwright, a patent was 
secured, and cotton mills erected which ultimately made the 
fortunes of both the Arkwrights and the Strutts. From that 
time forward the machinery was constantly receiving improve- 
ments and becoming perfected ; but the opposition he met, not 
only from the working people but from other manufacturers, 
nerved Arkwright to still greater efforts. Like George Ste- 
phenson and other great men, he " persevered^" and success 
abundantly crowned his efforts. He became Sir Richard Ark- 
wright, and died, it is said, a millionnaire. The mills at Crom- 
ford, in Derbyshire, built by him and his partners, became at 
the expiration of the partnership his own property. He built 
for himself, near at hand to them, a noble seat, Willersley Castle, 
and became the owner of large and valuable estates. 

" It is not every inventor, however skilled," says Mr. Smiles, 
" who is a veritable leader of industry like Arkwright. He was 
a tremendous worker, and a man of marvellous energy, ardor, 
and application to business. At one period of his life he was 
usually engaged in the severe and continuous labors involved 
by the organization and conduct of his numerous manufactories 
from four in the morning until nine at night. At fifty years of 
age he set to work to learn English grammar and improve him- 
self in writing and orthography. When he travelled, to save 
time, he went at great speed, drawn by four horses. Be it for 
good or evil, Arkwright was the founder in England of the 
modern factory system, — a branch of industry which has un- 
questionably proved a source of immense wealth to individuals 
and to the nation." 

A blot on his fair fame was his unforgiving disposition towards 
his poor wife. Probably — but he could not see it — her destruc- 
tion of his first models was to him a true " blessing in disguise ; " 
for it served as an incentive to further and renewed and improved 
action, and resulted in his achieving a mechanical success that 
would never have been attained but for that " cross " which, in 



404 



OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



her poverty and out of love for him, she had " laid upon him." 
Who, therefore, can blame the young wife? Rather to her, 
probably, though she knew it not, and did not live to see her 
unforgiving husband's ultimate greatness, is, from that very cir- 
cumstance, to some extent owing the success he achieved and the 
right to which he attained of being classed among benefactors 
of mankind. 



ELI WHITNEY. 



[Born 1765. Died 1S25.] 



ROBERT FULTON declared that Arkwright, Watt, and 
Whitney were the three men who had done the most 
for mankind of any of their contemporaries. 

Cotton manufacture in the United States goes only a little 
way back of the present century ; and it became a possibility 
only through the discovery of a cheap, simple, and expeditious 
method of separating the fibre of the plant from the seeds that 
adhere to it. Without the invention of the cotton-gin, says a 
veteran American cotton-spinner, " it would have been impos- 
sible for this country to have supplied the raw material for the 
increasing wants of the manufacturer." " What Peter the Great 
did to make Russia dominant," says Lord Macaulay, " Eli 
Whitney's invention of the cotton-gin has more than equalled 
in its relation to the progress and power of the United States." 
It is furthermore a matter of record in the decision of Mr. Jus- 
tice Johnson, of the United States Court for the District of 
Georgia, that it paid the debts of the South, and more than 
trebled the value of its lands. 

So late as the close of the Revolutionary War, scarcely any 
cotton was produced in the Southern States. The great staples 
of that section were rice, indigo, and corn. England was then 
supplying America with cotton fabrics made from raw material 
grown in India, China, and Brazil; and through the inventive 




ELI WHITNEY. 



ELI WHITNEY. 405 

genius of Arkwright, 1 she had secured for her manufactures a 
monopoly of the markets of the world. No cotton at all was 
grown in South Carolina or Georgia before the year 1789, and 
very little in Maryland and Virginia; but the impoverished 
planters of those States had then begun to turn their attention 
to its cultivation, as promising better returns than their regular 
crops. They knew that Great Britain was consuming six or 
seven million pounds annually. They had slave labor and a 
productive soil. It is true that a cotton factory — the first in 
the United States — had been built in Beverly, Massachusetts, 
as early as 1787, and was certainly in operation two years later; 
but all the cotton used there had to be imported from the West 
Indies, where the labor of picking cost next to nothing. Pay- 
ment was made for the staple in dried fish, that being the chief 
article of negro diet in those islands. 

In the course of a few years' trial, the soil of the Southern 
Atlantic States had been found excellently adapted to the 
growth of cotton, and a considerable breadth had consequently 
been planted ; still, so long as it took a negro a whole day to 
clean a single pound of raw cotton by hand labor, it was plain 
that the crop could not be made a profitable one. On the 
other hand, could some less costly method of getting rid of 
the seed be devised, the planters knew that their cotton would 
find a ready market both at home and abroad. 

The subject was in this stage when, in 1792, a young New 
Englander, named Eli Whitney, went to Georgia in the hope of 
bettering his prospects. He was the son of a Massachusetts 
farmer, and had just graduated from Yale. He expected to 
teach for a living. Disappointed in his first purpose of keeping 
a private school, he began the study of law at Savannah ; and, 
while pursuing his studies, he formed the acquaintance of the 
widow of General Nathaniel Greene, who was then living upon 
the plantation presented to her distinguished husband by the 
State of Georgia. This excellent lady took the poor law- 
student into her own house; and it was there, under her roof, 
that he first heard discussed the problem of how cotton might 
1 See the preceding article. 



406 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

be made profitable to the Georgia planter. Whitney had shown 
much native ingenuity, as well as taste, for mechanical contriv- 
ance ; and, one day, when the vexed question came up at Mrs. 
Greene's house, his benefactress warmly urged the young 
Northerner to try what he could do to solve it. The appeal 
and the occasion put him upon his mettle. Up to this moment 
Whitney had never seen either raw cotton or cotton-seed ; but, 
inspired by the confidence of his benefactress, no less than by 
the greatness of the opportunity, he shut himself up in a room 
that Mrs. Greene provided for the purpose, and toiled with 
unremitting perseverance until he had produced an imperfect 
model of his since famous machine. This rude machine was 
first exhibited to Mrs. Greene and a select company of invited 
guests, chiefly planters, all of whom witnessed its successful 
operation with wonder, but with delight too ; for with this con- 
trivance it was seen that more cotton could be separated from 
the seed by the labor of a single hand in one day than could 
be done in the usual way in months. 

The report of Whitney's wonderful machine soon spread 
abroad, causing great excitement among the planters and 
equal annoyance to the inventor, who naturally did not wish 
the public to see his work until he had thoroughly perfected it 
for practical use. He therefore refused to exhibit it in its in- 
complete state, which refusal so excited the ire of some law- 
less or unprincipled persons that they broke open the place 
where the machine was kept and carried it off. Although the 
fruits of his toil were thus wickedly wrested from him, the 
inventor could obtain no redress; for the planters selfishly 
banded themselves together to resist any effort to bring the 
perpetrators of the outrage to justice. This is an accurate, 
though by no means flattering, view of the morals of the time. 
So, although he had thus fully met the demand made upon his 
genius, Whitney was not permitted to reap the reward of his 
labors. In Georgia he was at the mercy of the mob. He 
therefore returned to Connecticut in the spring of 1793, con- 
structed a new model, and applied for a patent. His applica- 
tion encountered the determined opposition of those who cither 



ELI WHITNEY. 407 

had profited by the outrage in Georgia or who expected to do 
so in the future. In the meantime duplicates of the original 
cotton-gin had been made from the stolen model, as if it were 
public property, and were in use on many of the plantations 
before the inventor's rights could be protected by the patent 
laws. Against all these obstacles Whitney, however, struggled 
manfully; and having at length secured his patent-right, he 
began the manufacture of his machines at New Haven. He 
now began to receive some pecuniary benefit. South Carolina 
purchased for $50,000 the right to use the gin in that State. 
North Carolina also agreed to pay the inventor a royalty for 
every cotton-gin put in operation within her borders. Some of 
the other Southern States promised the like encouragement, 
but did nothing. In view of the fact that Whitney's discovery 
had already doubled the wealth of the cotton-growing States, 
these results seem ridiculously small; but when it is known 
that every dollar that Whitney had thus received was either 
spent in lawsuits brought to secure the payment of these sums, 
or to stop the infringements made upon his gin, they appear 
still more so. Convinced at last that for him, at least, justice 
did not exist in the South, W 7 hitney abandoned in despair 
the effort to obtain it. He had now to look elsewhere for 
the means of support. But such a mechanical genius as his 
could not long fail of appreciation. By the advice and assist- 
ance of his friend, Oliver Wolcott, Whitney now turned his at- 
tention to the manufacture of fire-arms for the Government. 
The arsenals were either empty or encumbered with old and un- 
serviceable arms. The hopes and energies of the unfortunate 
inventor were newly aroused, though in an entirely differ- 
ent direction. Whitney's workshops at New Haven were in 
successful operation in 1808-9, turning out fire-arms of im- 
proved pattern and workmanship. He was the first person to 
make a musket so that each part could be fitted to any other 
musket. Thanks to the patronage of Governor Wolcott, who 
was then Secretary of the Treasury, Whitney ultimately amassed 
a fortune in the manufacture of arms, having introduced many 
novel features in the machinery he used, as well as the finished 



408 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

weapons he turned out. All his efforts to procure a renewal of 
the patent-right to his cotton-gin were, however, defeated by 
the Southern delegation in Congress; and so this gifted in- 
ventor and benefactor had the hard fortune to see his invention 
everywhere in successful use, and its merits fully acknowledged, 
while he stood begging for justice at the doors of those whom 
his genius had enriched. Mr. Whitney's death, in 1825, elicited 
the warmest encomiums to his personal worth as a man ; but 
his experience as the inventor of the cotton-gin is a signal 
instance of the inherent selfishness of human nature that we can 
have no pleasure in putting upon record. 



JAMES WATT. 

[Born 1736. Died 1819.] 

THOSE who knew James Watt as a boy must have been 
very undiscerning if they did not read in him the promise 
of greatness. Frail and sickly, he was, nevertheless, brimful of 
intellectual life. Ardently loving fiction, making and telling 
striking tales, wandering alone at night to watch the stars, 
scrutinizing every instrument and machine that fell in his way 
to master the rationale of its uses, engrossed with the " Elements 
of Natural Philosophy," performing chemical experiments and 
contriving an electrical machine, dissecting, botanizing, break- 
ing the rocks for mineralogic specimens, working in metal, 
making miniature cranes, pulleys, capstans, and pumps, enter- 
ing the cottages and gathering the local traditions of the peas- 
ants, — such was the wonderful boy of fifteen who afterwards 
said, " I have never yet read a book or conversed with a com- 
panion without gaining information, instruction, or amusement." 
At nineteen the adventurous youth tried his fortune in London ; 
and, after many a struggle and trial, returned to Scotland, and 
at one-and-twenty was installed in the quadrangle of Glasgow 




JAMES WATT. 



JAMES WATT. 409 

College as " Mathematical Instrument Maker to the University." 
Here he carried on a trade in quadrants and musical instruments 
of his own making. He built an organ, and it was the admira- 
tion of musicians. Students and professors frequented his shop. 
Robison, afterwards professor of natural philosophy, expected 
to find in him a workman, and was surprised to find a philoso- 
pher. Other proficients besides Robison frankly acknowledged 
their inferiority to Watt; and they did so the more readily 
because they could not help loving the naive simplicity and 
candor of his character. To Robison he owed one invaluable 
suggestion, — the application of steam to the moving of wheel- 
carriages. 

It is a mistake to suppose that there was no steam-engine 
before James Watt. There was that of Newcomen, on which 
he had to improve. But the problem of adequate improvement 
was dark till, in a lonely walk one Sunday afternoon in the spring 
of 1765, the solution of it flashed upon his mind. But many 
long and laborious years were needed before he could bring to 
perfection the engine which was completed in thought. Black- 
smiths and tinners were the workmen available for his purpose 
in Glasgow; no capitalists there were likely to take up the 
steam-engine. Several thousand pounds would be required to 
give a fair trial to his apparatus; and if Dr. Roebuck had not 
become his associate he might never have been able to bring 
his grand invention before mankind. At length, in 1768, the 
model was finished ; but a model is to a mechanic only what 
a manuscript unpublished is to an author. The patent was 
obtained in 1769, but much still remained to be done. Limited 
means depressed his spirits, and the almost insuperable difficul- 
ties caused by bad mechanical workmanship proved dreadfully 
disheartening. " Of all things in life," he said in moments of 
despondency, " there is nothing more foolish than inventing." 
And again he wrote: "To-day [Jan. 31, 1770] I enter into the 
thirty-fifth year of my life, and I think I have hardly done 
thirty-five pence' worth of good in the world." 

It was in the midst of the most trying calamities — calamities 
such as generally befall those who are to benefit their kind 



410 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

largely — that Watt entered into partnership with Boulton, him- 
self a great designer, contriver, and organizer. It was he who 
said to Boswell in 1776, in reference to his manufacture of steam- 
engines in Soho, " I sell here, sir, what all the world desires to 
have, — POWER." Seven hundred men were at that time work- 
ing in his factory. But the capital invested by him in the 
undertaking amounted to .£47,000 before any profits began to 
be derived from their sale. Even with the extension of the 
patent, it was not till after 1783 that Watt and Boulton had the 
satisfaction of finding that there was really a balance to their 
profit. At length their long toil, perseverance, and patience 
were rewarded in a pecunia/y point of view ; but they would 
have enjoyed the higher satisfaction of having benefited man- 
kind even if they had died beggars. Their first experiments 
were made in Cornwall, where the size, swiftness, and horrible 
noise of the engine greatly astonished the natives. " The strug- 
gles," Watt wrote to Dr. Black, " which we have had with natu- 
ral difficulties, and with the ignorance, prejudices, and villanies 
of mankind, have been very great, but I hope are now nearly 
come to an end." Yet they continued unabated; and so also 
did his headaches and despondency. " Solomon," he wrote 
bitterly to Mr. Boulton, " said that in the increase of knowledge 
there is increase of sorrow; if he had substituted business for 
knowledge, it would have been perfectly true." Attempts to 
pirate his inventions sharpened his distresses. Ordinary mech- 
anicians made their fortunes by these despicable means. It had 
been so during life : his drawing-machine, his microscope, his 
crank, had been appropriated and purloined, and now the same 
fate threatened the condensing-engine on which he had bestowed 
twenty years' toil. The Cornish miners, with the most selfish 
dishonesty, sought to evade the payments which they had stipu- 
lated to Boulton and Watt. Thousands of pounds had to be 
spent to vindicate the rights of the patentees; and though 
invariably successful, the anxiety these legal processes caused 
to Watt's too sensitive mind were such as can be imagined only 
by those who have been drawn against their will within the 
whirlpool of law courts. Invention to Watt was martyrdom; 



JAMES WATT. 41 1 

yet so strongly did the inventive instinct work within him that 
his physicians strove in vain to dissuade him from further inven- 
tions. New contrivances continued to be the pastime of his 
leisure hours ; and thus to his irrepressible genius for mecha- 
nism were due the machine for copying letters, the instrument 
for measuring the specific gravity of fluids, his regulator lamp, 
his machine for drying linen, and his plan of heating buildings 
by steam. 

Notwithstanding all his troubles and trials Watt lived to old 
age, and enjoyed a remarkable exemption from the infirmities 
usually incident to it. Until eighty-three years old he went 
daily into his workshop after answering letters, and was often seen 
in the company of the men of the day most illustrious in liter- 
ature and science. Walter Scott, Jeffrey, and Mrs. Schimmel- 
Penninck have all left us most interesting records of his amiability 
and extensive knowledge. Scarcely a subject could be started 
in which he was not at home, and wherever he went he proved 
a centre of attraction. Even little children thronged around 
him. We stand amazed at the enormous results of the activity 
of a single mind, when we cast our eye over a railway map and 
think of the impetus his invention has given to the life of the 
civilized world. Nor have these results reached their goal. To 
remote posterity they will appear only to have just begun; for 
it is impossible for us even to conjecture to what ends, and 
to how many, the use of steam locomotion may in future be 
applied. There is an interaction among discoveries which 
makes their value increase in geometrical proportion as they 
succeed one another ; but we may be sure that, however great 
and numerous may be the improvements in steam machinery, 
posterity will never forget the name of James Watt nor disown 
their obligations to his genius. The pen of Brougham has not 
exaggerated his merits in the epitaph on the statue of James 
W'att in Westminster Abbey executed by the chisel of Chantrey. 
The great lawyer was well employed when he wrote it ; and so 
was the great sculptor when he preserved in marble the memory 
of so great a man. 



412 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



ROBERT FULTON. 

[Born 1765. Died 1S15.] 

WE who are accustomed to travel in the floating palaces 
of our day at a speed of from fifteen to twenty miles an 
hour, look back with wonder upon the first feeble attempts that 
were made to propel vessels by steam. The wonder increases 
that the discovery came so late as it did ; for we are hardly 
able now to realize by what slow stages steam locomotion ad- 
vanced to assured success. Now that steam itself is hardly 
swift enough to satisfy the demands of our hurrying age, the 
idea of travelling four or five miles an hour may well cause a 
smile ; but to seriously consider that it is only three quarters of 
a century since even this slow rate of progress was considered 
one of the grandest achievements of modern times almost 
passes our ability. 

Successful application of steam to navigation is unquestion- 
ably due to the persevering efforts of Robert Fulton ; because, 
while Fitch and others had the same idea that he had, and were 
pursuing it in their own way, he outstripped them in the race 
by superior genius. Many had already tried and failed where 
Fulton at last succeeded, so that the world gives no more than 
its just reward to his patient and unremitting labors when it 
places Robert Fulton's name upon the roll of benefactors, " not 
for an age, but for all time." 

Yet how simple the problem seems to us in the light of 
present knowledge ! To so apply the power of the steam-engine 
to a shaft as to drive a water-wheel, — this was all. And how 
to do it was puzzling the inventors of Watt's and Fulton's day, 
— inventors who had already settled it in their own minds that 
the thing was entirely feasible. So indeed it seemed ; for the 
steam-engines of Watt and Boulton were already doing wonders 




ROBERT FULTON. 



ROBERT FULTON. 4*3 

in the way of mechanical labor, and were slowly opening the 
eyes of inventors to the greater possibilities that lay in the 
future of steam power. 

Robert Fulton was one of those rare minds whose intellectual 
activities must of necessity lead to some brilliant result. In the 
popular phrase, he was born great. His early career and that 
of his countryman, Morse, are, up to a certain point, almost 
identical ; for he, like Morse, had chosen the profession of a 
painter, and he too had been a pupil of West. It was while 
he was in England, working over his easel, that Fulton's mind 
began definitely to take the direction of mechanical science, — 
a study in which he ultimately became absorbed to the exclu- 
sion of everything else. He realized that it was his true voca- 
tion. Yet his earlier projects, valuable as they were, seem only 
to have been so many steps towards higher achievement. For 
several years he applied himself closely to the study of civil- 
engineering, and especially to the improvement of canal navi- 
gation. In 1797 Fulton went to Paris, where the friendship of 
Joel Barlow procured for him an entrance into the brilliant 
coterie of savans which the sagacity of the First Consul had 
attracted to his fortunes. War was then the business of Eu- 
rope, and warlike inventions superseded for the moment every 
other in importance. During Fulton's residence in Paris he 
had the good fortune to meet Chancellor Livingstone, the 
American minister, who thenceforth became the inventor's fast 
friend, generous patron, and active coworker; for Livingstone 
himself had been seriously occupied with the question of steam 
navigation, and in Fulton he had at last found the man who 
was capable of bringing this grand scheme to a fortunate con- 
clusion. On the other hand, in Livingstone Fulton found a 
patron possessed of large and varied attainments, of command- 
ing influence and position, and of ample wealth, who had, 
moreover, the success of the project to which his own life was 
devoted quite as much at heart as himself; so that the alliance 
promised only the best results. 

Exactly what Livingstone and his associates had accom- 
plished before Fulton joined them, is not clearly perceived. 



4H OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Some experiments had been made ; and when it is known that 
these experiments had advanced so far that, with characteristic 
foresight, Livingstone, in 1798, had secured from the State of 
New York an exclusive privilege to navigate with steam-vessels 
the waters of that State, we are prepared to believe either that 
certain results were looked for, or that Livingstone desired a 
monopoly that would enable him to carry on his experiments at 
leisure. This was three years before he met Fulton in Paris. 
His application had been treated with derision by the legisla- 
ture, but it had been successful ; and so a way for making the 
invention profitable, when it should come, was prepared. 

After experimenting two years, Fulton produced, in 1803, a 
boat that made under steam a successful trial-trip on the Seine. 
The grand schemes of Napoleon had also set the American 
inventor's brain at work upon a series of experiments that 
resulted in the perfection of his submarine torpedo, which is 
certainly one of the most original as well as one of the most 
destructive engines of modern warfare. The steamboat was, 
however, his fixed idea. In 1806 Fulton returned to the United 
States, and from this moment he applied all the resources of his 
mind to the subject of steam navigation. He immediately set 
about building a boat one hundred and thirty feet long, eighteen 
wide, and seven deep. An engine was ordered from Watt and 
Boulton. All the machinery was uncovered, and its working 
exposed to view. Fulton's principle was the familiar one of 
working paddles by a shaft extending outside the hull. These 
paddle-wheels were only fifteen feet in diameter, with a dip of 
two feet. When the " Clermont" was completed, — for.she was 
so named from the Livingstone manor on the Hudson, — and it 
was announced that on the 4th of August, 1807, the boat would 
start on a voyage of one hundred and fifty miles, to Albany, 
under steam alone, public expectation was raised to fever heat. 
Underneath this there was, however, a general feeling of incre- 
dulity in the success of the scheme, and of pity for the vision- 
ary Fulton and his misapplied talents. But when the hour 
fixed for the trial actually came, — when the " Clermont " was 
unmoored, her rude engine started, and, steaming slowly out 



ROBERT FULTON. 415 

upon the broad river, she began her eventful voyage in the 
midst of an ominous silence on the part of the multitude of 
spectators, then came a moment of supreme suspense for the 
anxious inventor, which it will be best to allow him to describe 
in his own way. 

" The boat moved on a short distance, and then stopped and became 
immovable. To the silence of the preceding moment now succeeded 
murmurs of discontent, whispers, and shrugs. I could hear distinctly 
repeated by those around me : 'I told you so ; it is a foolish scheme. I 
wish we were well out of it.' I stepped up to where I could be heard, 
and spoke to them. I stated that I knew not what was the matter ; but 
if they would be quiet and indulge me for half an hour I would either 
go on or abandon the voyage for that time. This short respite was con- 
ceded without objection. I went below, and examined the machinery, 
and discovered that the cause was a slight maladjustment of some of the 
work. In a short time it was remedied. The boat was again put in 
motion. She continued to move on. All were incredulous; none 
seemed willing to trust to the evidence of their own senses." 

The passage of the " Clermont " up the Hudson was a tri- 
umphal progress. Multitudes flocked to the shores to see this 
strange craft moving steadily on without the help of wind or 
sails. In thirty-six hours she had steamed the one hundred and 
fifty miles to Albany without meeting with the least accident. 
With modest triumph Fulton records that the " Clermont " had 
overtaken the various sailing craft, and had passed them as if 
they had been at anchor. The following letter gives too con- 
cisely his own account of the voyage. We append it as a 
literary curiosity : — 

New York, Aug. 20. 
To the Editor of the " American Citizen : " 1 

Sir, — I arrived this afternoon at 4 o'clock, in the steam Boat from 
Albany. As the success of my experiment gives me great hope that such 
boats may be rendered of much importance to my country, to prevent 
erroneous opinions and give some satisfaction to the friends of useful 
improvements, you will have the goodness to publish the following state- 

1 Then the other name of the " Commercial Advertiser." 



416 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

raent of facts : I left New York on Monday, i o'clock, and arrived at 
Clermont, the seat of Chancellor Livingston, at i o'clock on Tuesday, 
time 24 hours, distance no miles. On Wednesday I departed from the 
Chancellor's at 9 in the morning, and arrived at Albany at 5 in the after- 
noon, distance 40 miles, time S hours ; — the sum of this is 150 miles in 
32 hours, equal to near 5 miles an hour. On Thursday, at 9 o'clock in 
the morning, I left Albany, and arrived at the Chancellor's at 6 in the 
evening ; I started from there at 7, and arrived at New York on Friday 
at 4 in the afternoon, time 30 hours, space run through 150 miles — 
equal to 5 miles in an hour. Throughout the whole way, my going and 
returning, the wind was ahead ; no advantage could be drawn from my 
sails — the whole has, therefore, been performed by the power of the 
steam-engine. 

I am, Sir, Your most obedient 

Robert Fulton. 



GEORGE STEPHENSON. 

[Born 17S1. Died 1848.] 

r I A HE inventor of the locomotive steam-engine was born in 
-*- a village of Northumberland in 1781. His earliest recollec- 
tions were of the colliery of which his father was fireman, and 
Dewley Burn, where he herded cows and in his leisure modelled 
clay engines and constructed a miniature windmill. Promoted, 
when a boy, from being fireman of an engine to be plugman, 
he would sometimes take the machine to pieces and put it to- 
gether again in order to understand it the better. At eighteen, 
when earning but twelve shillings a week, he attended a night 
school, and from learning to read and write his name got on 
to learn arithmetic at fourpence a week. At twenty he was 
brakesman ; big, raw-boned, temperate, industrious, athletic, and, 
though not combative, ready to defend himself if " put upon." 

With the new century he married Fannie Henderson ; and 
the ballast brought by the collier ships to Newcastle looked to 
him to be lifted out of the hold. He lived at Ballast Hills, 




GEORGE STEPHENSON. 



GEORGE STEPHENSON. 417 

gave much time to mechanical experiments, labored in vain 
to procure perpetual motion, and became clock cleaner and 
mender to the whole neighborhood. This was better than 
cobbling and shoemaking, which he had practised at Newburn 
to earn pence for the schoolmaster. In 1803 his first and only- 
child was born, his wife died, and the next year he superin- 
tended the working of one of Boulton and Watt's engines at 
Montrose. Provisions were at war prices ; but he saved ,£28 
in a year, and returned to Killingvvorth to help his father, who 
was in deep distress. He rose only by slow degrees, and from 
engineman at Killingvvorth colliery he became engineer with 
,£100 a year. 

He was now over thirty years of age, and the most impor- 
tant epoch of his life was at hand. He had seen many attempts 
to construct a locomotive steam-engine, and had come to the 
conclusion that he could surpass them all. Hitherto every 
success had been also a failure, for none had combined econ- 
omy and efficiency. Lord Ravensworth was one of his em- 
ployers, and to him he communicated his design. He obtained 
a patient hearing, and was commissioned to make a trial. 
His plan at first was to make one for the colliery tramways 
only ; but he foresaw, even at this stage of his labors, that 
" there was no limit to the speed of such an engine, if the 
works could be made to stand it." But how great were his 
difficulties ! An engine built in the workshops at West Moor, 
the tools themselves to be made, the colliery blacksmith the 
chief workman, and everything resting on the designer ! How- 
ever, in ten months it was finished ; and he placed it on the 
railway, July 25, 1814. It was successful, though cumbrous 
and capable of great improvement. It drew eight loaded car- 
riages, weighing thirty tons, at the rate of four miles an hour. 
But it cost about as much as horse-power; the waste steam 
escaped freely into the air, and it went hissing away with a 
tremendous noise, while the lookers-on laughed and called it 
" My Lord." True genius is not to be baffled with difficulties; 
rather they are its life. Stephenson saw a remedy for the 
waste steam. He invented the steam-blast, — that is, made the 

27 



4l8 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

waste steam promote the combustion of the fuel, — and by that 
means doubled the engine's power without any increase of its 
weight. This however, did not satisfy him. Next year he 
made another engine, which must be regarded as the type of 
the present locomotive engine, though it has been consider- 
ably modified in minor details. 

During the nine years that elapsed from 1816 to 1825, Ste- 
phenson was constantly advancing from one step to another of 
improved locomotive machinery. He found that the tramroads 
were carelessly kept, and that a firm bed and a regular level were 
essential requisites. He took out a patent for an improved 
form of rail and chair ; and he placed the locomotive engine on 
springs, and applied his latest invention to the conveyance of 
goods. The railway which he constructed for the owners of 
Hetton colliery was opened for traffic in 1822; and he found 
a wider field for his talents in the construction of the Stock- 
ton and Darlington line, of which he was appointed engineer. 
He worked at it with a will ; started every morning with his 
dinner in his pocket, and got it cooked wherever he happened 
to pass about noon. The eyes of Parliament and of the nation 
were now upon him, though many jeered at his enthusiasm. 
At last the line was opened by an engine which he drove 
himself. It drew a load of ninety tons at the rate of over 
eight miles. It was highly remunerative, and served for goods 
and passenger traffic. This one railway has done much for 
society. The town and port of Middlesborough-on-Tees, 
with eight or nine thousand inhabitants, has taken the place 
of a solitary farm; and where a few heads of cattle strayed 
and pastured there are now reading-rooms and a national 
school, an observatory, manufactures of rope and sail-cloth, 
iron-works, yards for shipbuilding, commodious docks, and 
extensive exports of coal. All this has come of Mr. Pease's 
Darlington line, with Stephenson for its engineer, and the old 
stage-coach mounted on a truck used as a passenger carriage, 
and called " The Experiment." 

His great trial of strength was yet to come. It was pro- 
posed to run a railway with a train of a hundred tons weight 



GEORGE STEPHENSON. 419 

across the spongy and impassable Chat Moss between Man- 
chester and Liverpool. Stephenson said he could do it; but 
though every obstacle was thrown in his way, he fought his 
battle single-handed, and he won it. He obtained his bill and 
constructed his railway. The best part of the line is that 
which crosses Chat Moss ; and that part cost no more than 
.£28,000. He placed on this line his latest improvement, the 
" Rocket," which had won the prize of £"500 offered by the 
directors, and he drove it himself thirty miles an hour. The 
object of his life was now achieved, and in it he acquired the 
reward of his labors. Wealth of course filled his coffers, — at 
least, all the wealth he desired, and more than he needed. 
As to titles and honors, he would not put out his hand to 
take them. He would die, he said, with the name he was 
christened by, and would have " no flourishes to it, either 
before or after." 

George Stephenson was assisted in his labors by his son 
Robert, who afterwards became almost as distinguished as his 
father. Occupation of a most remunerative kind poured in 
upon them; and the father was incessantly engaged till 1840, 
when he resigned most of his engagements, settled at Tapton, 
in Derbyshire, and found in the Clay Cross collieries a fresh 
pursuit. Often he visited the Mechanics' Institutes in his 
neighborhood, and encouraged them by relating the circum- 
stances of his own career. His interest in railway extension 
continued undiminished ; and he took part, as engineer, share- 
holder, or chairman, in the Maryport and Whitehaven, the 
Norwich and Yarmouth, and the Edinburgh and Newcastle 
East Coast line, with which is connected the stupendous high- 
level bridge at Newcastle, designed by his son. Of this last 
work he was one of the committee of management, but his 
life was not prolonged to see its completion. He travelled 
also in Belgium and Spain in connection with some railway 
projects; but on returning from the latter country, in 1845, 
he bid a more complete adieu to railway matters, and de- 
voted his time almost entirely to his lime-works and collieries, 
his farm and garden, and revived his early taste for keeping 



420 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

birds and animals. Though he was invariably kind and atten- 
tive to the numerous applications he received for advice and 
assistance, he kept himself as free as he could from projectors 
and inventors of all kinds, and thus passed the decline of his 
life in peace and ease, witnessing the diligence and success 
of his son, who was destined to perpetuate his father's name 
and his reputation. He died on August 12, 1848, one of the 
heroes of social science, and one of the illustrious " men who 
have made themselves." 

" As evidence of the singularly ' matter-of-fact mind ' of 
George Stephenson," says S. C. Hall, " I have to state this. 
When the bill for the formation of the Chester and Birken- 
head Railway was passing through Parliament, I met Stephen- 
son at dinner with a small party of railway directors. Hope 
was giving scope to joy; the bill had gone through the Com- 
mons. When the toast, ' Success to railways ' was given, I 
turned down my glass and refused to drink it, on the ground 
that the promoters were enemies to the common-weal of Great 
Britain. A poor pun; but Stephenson began to argue with 
me as to the fact that for every common wheel put out of 
use, a wheel of infinitely greater value would be adopted. 
The dinner took place at a tavern, now gone, close to old 
Westminster Bridge and commanding a full view of the arches. 
Their bill had reached the House of Lords. I perpetrated 
another poor pun. ' Ah ! ' I said, ' I see why you patron- 
ize this house ; it is that you may cultivate acquaintance 
with the Piers ; ' upon which Stephenson earnestly explained 
to me that, ' the bill being sanctioned by the Commons, it 
was impossible that it could be rejected by the Peers! A 
play upon a word would have been as unintelligible to the 
marvellous old man as a treatise on algebra to a native of 
Newfoundland. In calling to memory George Stephenson, 
I picture a remarkable mingling of the snavitcr in modo with 
the fortiter in re. A ponderous head that seemed overladen, 
a body that it appeared not easy to move from one chair to 
another, — burdened with a weight of thought. But his was 
a countenance most expressive of a kindly nature ; it was 




THE GREATHEAD LIFEBOAT AT SEA 



HENRY GREATHEAD. 



HENRY GREATHEAD. 421 

handsomely manly, with much of loving-kindness, requiring 
but a prompter to the exertion of sympathy and ready help. 
I could fancy him striving to stop a steam-engine in full career, 
that a sparrow might get out of the way. I knew little of 
him and nothing of his domestic relations ; but I am greatly 
mistaken in my estimate of the man, if he was other than ten- 
der, loving, and affectionate, as well as generous and just. 
It was my privilege to meet Robert, the son of George, fre- 
quently at the hospitable board of the sculptor Lough ; like 
the great engineer, Lough was a " self-made man," and not 
ashamed of so honorable a distinction. Sir Robert Stephenson 
was, as far as ' externals ' went, a great improvement on the 
father : a remarkably handsome man he was in form and fea- 
tures ; of no great conversational powers, — at all events, after 
dinner. It was not ' natural ' that he should have left earth 
so early as he did ; his work was but half done. Have these 
two great men bequeathed to any ' son succeeding, the cloak 
the one inherited from the other'? These are but weak rec- 
ollections of two great men. If I had known more of them, 
as I might have done, I should have told more ; but surely 
the smallest scrap of information concerning such true heroes 
of labor, whose long pedigree is that of toil, is of some 
value." 



HENRY GREATHEAD. 

[Born 1757. Died 1813.] 

IT is the Briton's national boast that Britannia rules the waves. 
Whether or not Henry Greathead was that particular Briton 
who invented the life-boat has been a matter of some discussion, 
since this credit is claimed on behalf of two others, by name 
Lionel Lukin and William Wouldhave. The first of these two 
was a native of Dunmow, an inland town in the county of 
Essex. He afterwards removed to London, established himself 



422 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

as a coach-builder in Long Acre, and then conceived the idea 
of constructing a boat partially of wood and partially of cork. 
He enjoyed the patronage of the then Prince of Wales, after- 
wards George IV. ; and in 1784 a boat built by him, and termed 
" unimergible," passed a successful trial on the Thames. He 
obtained a grant of letters patent in 1785 ; but his scheme does 
not appear to have made any progress beyond that the Rev. 
Dr. Shairp, of Bamborough, hearing of his invention, sent him 
an ordinary coble to be made " unimergible.' This was done. 
The boat was stationed at Bamborough ; and it is said to have 
been instrumental in saving several lives, but whether or not 
in seas in which no ordinary boat could have lived is unknown. 
The subject then dropped until 1789, when a ship, by name 
the " Adventurer," of Newcastle, stranded on the Herd Sands 
at the entrance of the Tyne. A fierce gale was raging, the sea 
was running mountains high; thousands of spectators were 
present, and, though but three hundred yards from the ill-fated 
ship, were unable to afford the slightest succor. One by one 
the crew dropped off from the rigging; mothers saw their sons, 
wives their husbands, drowned before their eyes and within the 
very sight of home. This tragic event caused such an impres- 
sion that a committee was formed in South Shields, and a pre- 
mium was offered for the best design of a life-boat. A great 
number competed. The final decision lay between William 
Wouldhave of South Shields, a painter, and Henry Greathead 
of the same town, a ship-builder ; and in the end it was given in 
favor of the latter; but the friends of Wouldhave claim that 
certain features of his design were adopted either by Greathead 
or the committee. There does not, however, seem to be much, 
if any, proof of this ; and probably the real facts are that the 
idea originated with Lukin, who, however, was unable to master 
the practical details, as it is said that the sides of his boat were 
liable to be staved in, and that the boat itself, though buoyant, 
lacked balance ; that Wouldhave improved upon the idea and 
might have been proclaimed the inventor, had Greathead never 
competed ; and that the latter alone was sufficiently master of 
the theory and practice of ship-building to produce anything 



HENRY GREATHEAD. 423 

likely to prove of permanent benefit; and therefore to him 
must the honor be awarded, not as a privilege, but as a right. 
Those, however, who may feel inclined to inquire further 
into the merits of the case will find every information in the 
book entitled "The History of the Life-boat," by Mr. Richard 
Lewis, Secretary to the Royal National Life-boat Institution ; 
and it must suffice to add that Wouldhave afterwards became 
clerk to St. Hilda's Church, South Shields, and died in 1821, 
at the age of seventy years. A tombstone erected to his 
memory bears the following inscription : — 

" Sacred to the Memory 

of 

WILLIAM WOULDHAVE, 

Who died September 28th, 1821, 

Aged 70 years, 

Clerk of this Church, 

And inventor of that national blessing to mankind the life-boat." 

Below is the following epitaph : — 

" Heaven genius scientifick gave 
Surpassing vulgar boast, yet he from soil 
So rich no golden harvest reaped, no wreathe 
Nor that ingrate a Palm ; unfading this 
Till shipwrecks cease and lifeboats cease to save." 

A model of his invention can at the present time be seen 
suspended from the chandelier of the church. 

Lionel Lukin retired from business to Hythe, and died in 
1834; and the inscription on his tombstone also claims for him 
the honor of having invented the life-boat 

Henry Greathead was the son of John Greathead, supervisor 
and comptroller of the salt duties in South Shields and the ad- 
joining neighborhood, who had married a daughter of Henry 
Raisden, a merchant formerly of York Buildings, London. 

There was a large family, and the subject of this memoir was 
the fifth, and was born at Richmond, in Yorkshire, on the 27th 
of January, 1757. He was the worthy son of a worthy father, 
as the latter, to quote the words of the " European Magazine," 



424 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

in 1804, "was held in great esteem for his strict integrity and 
diligence during forty-six years that he continued in the 
situation." 

Henry, when a boy, it is said, indicated a mechanical turn, 
and accordingly was apprenticed to an eminent ship-builder in 
South Shields. This life, however, proved too monotonous for 
him. He went to sea at first in the merchant service, but dur- 
ing the American War served in the Royal Navy, and after- 
wards, in the year 1788, was shipwrecked on the French coast 
while on a voyage to the West Indies. He then returned to 
South Shields, set up as a ship-builder, and in the following 
year, as before stated, gained the prize offered by the South 
Shields Committee. 

In 1791 the life-boat was for the first time called into active 
requisition. A Sunderland brig again stranded at the entrance 
of the Tyne; but this time succor was at hand. The boat was 
launched, was manned by a brave and sturdy crew, reached the 
distressed ship, and succeeded in saving those on board. The 
success of this one boat, the first messenger of salvation con- 
structed by human skill, but intrusted to the mercy of a divine 
Providence, encouraged not only other towns but also other 
countries to follow the example of South Shields; for in 1803 
Greathead had built no less than thirty-one life-boats, of which 
eighteen were for England, five for Scotland, and eight for 
foreign countries. 

A year before this he had applied to Parliament for a national 
reward, and a committee had been appointed to take evidence. 
The evidence adduced proved two things, — it proved that the 
life-boat was a blessing, and that Greathead was not alone an 
inventor but also a man of the greatest nobility of character ; 
it proved that the life-boat had already been the means of sav- 
ing two hundred lives at the mouth of the Tyne alone, — but it 
also proved that Greathead had taken no steps to protect his 
invention, and had never asked, much less obtained, more than 
an ordinary trade price for a single one of these boats. 

Upon the report of this committee it was proposed to grant 
him a sum of £2,000, and Wilberforce eloquently urged his 



HENRY GREATHEAD. 425 

claims. The Government, however, thought that half this sum 
would be sufficient; but upon its being represented to them that 
the cost of his own and his witnesses' journey up to and stay in 
London had amounted to nearly ,£200, they consented to ;£ 1,200, 
and this amount was unanimously voted. The Trinity House 
added one hundred guineas, Lloyd's subscribed the same amount, 
the Society of Arts awarded him its gold medal together with 
fifty guineas, and the Emperor of Russia presented him with a 
diamond ring. 

On the 23d of November, 1803, there occurred an episode 
which showed that Greathead possessed a large amount of phys- 
ical courage in addition to a high mental capacity; for on that 
day the " Bee " of Shields put to sea, but encountering rough 
weather the captain determined to re-enter the Tyne. In tak- 
ing the bar at the mouth the ship struck the ground, lost her 
rudder, became unmanageable, and finally drove on the rocks 
known by the name of the " Black Middins." A crowd assem- 
bled ; and the same tragedy which had been the primary cause 
of life-boats ever having been instituted seemed likely to be re- 
enacted, for all declared that it was too rough for the boat to 
put out. Suddenly Greathead stepped forward, and offered to 
go out himself to the rescue if a crew would volunteer. His 
words had an electric effect on those present; hundreds stepped 
forward, and the difficulty now was whom to choose without 
offending the others. A selection, however, was finally made, 
chiefly consisting of pilots ; the life-boat was launched, reached 
the ship in reality without any great difficulty, and rescued 
everybody on board without the loss of a single life. 

After 1804 Greathead's career becomes somewhat enveloped 
in mystery and wrapped in gloom. It would appear that he 
embarked in certain speculations, and lost all the money which 
had been granted him by Parliament; for in 1807 his name ap- 
pears in the " Gazette " among the list of bankrupts. At that 
period the Napoleonic wars were attracting the attention of the 
whole country, and amidst the bustle of war this benefactor 
would appear to have been forgotten. The very date of his 
death is uncertain, but is believed to have occurred in 1 8 13; 



426 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

and it is beyond a doubt that he was carried to his last resting- 
place, — 

" Unwept, unhallowed, and unsung." 

This neglect has been continued ; for his name is barely men- 
tioned in some biographical dictionaries or encyclopaedias, which 
cheerfully devote whole columns to the career of a successful 
clown or noted eccentricity. 

If this date of his death be correct, he would have died at 
the age of fifty-six, eight years before the first life-boat ever 
built was lost. Some, however, built by him, are not only in 
existence, but even in use. Redcar has the oldest ; it bears the 
date of 1802; and the sight of it some eight years ago in- 
spired Viscount de Redcliffe to write some lines. They were 
set to music by Claribel, and the song was published under 
the title of " The Life-boat." No statue, even in Shields, has 
been erected to Greathead's memory. Well, perhaps none is 
wanted. Of Sir Robert Peel it was said that every policeman 
was a statue to his memory; and so with equal truth it may 
be said that every life-boat is a monument to the memory of 
Henry Greathead. 

The good work begun in 1789, though it flagged for a time, 
has been carried on up to the present day. The British public 
is seldom stingy where " Jack " is concerned ; and the Royal 
National Life-boat Institution alone, which is supported by vol- 
untary contributions, and of which her most gracious Majesty 
is patroness, has no less than two hundred and sixty-nine sta- 
tions, and was the means of saving eight hundred and fifty-five 
precious lives in one year. 

It is true that the life-boat in use is somewhat different in con- 
struction from that designed by Henry Greathead. It now 
carries sail, and is technically known by the name of " self- 
righting ; " but, nevertheless, Britain has every reason to be 
proud of that son of the Tyne whose invention it practically 
was, since it is blessed by the whole civilized world, and has 
been the means of preventing untold sorrow and incalculable 
misery. 




SIR HUMPHRY DAVY. 



SIR HUMPHRY DAVY. 427 



SIR HUMPHRY DAVY. 

[Born 1778. Died 1829.] 

OIR HUMPHRY DAVY was one of those natural philoso- 
^ phers who specially contributed to the formation of modern 
thought. Without attaining to the highest distinction, his facul- 
ties were so well balanced, and his discoveries so numerous and 
brilliant, that he may be regarded as a representative man of 
his time and a pioneer of experimental philosophy in its latest 
developments. He was born on the 17th of December, 1778, 
at Penzance, in Cornwall, being the eldest son of Robert Davy, 
a wood-carver. 

The childhood of Humphry was spent under the immediate 
care of his parents ; and even in his earliest years he gave evi- 
dence of the possession of singular abilities. The first striking 
characteristic which manifested itself, one which distinguished 
him throughout life, was that of quickness of apprehension. 

When a mere child he entered the grammar school at Pen- 
zance, and remained there until 1793. He was then removed 
to the care of a Truro clergyman ; but unfortunately his oppor- 
tunities for advanced education were cut short by his father's 
death in the following year. Soon afterwards he became articled 
to Mr. Borlase, a surgeon of Penzance, under whose tuition, 
though acquiring next to nothing of surgery, he gained that 
decided taste for chemical pursuits which eventually placed him 
in the front rank of scientific investigators. The passion for 
experiment indeed soon became insatiable. Everything that 
could on any pretence or by any contrivance be converted 
into a piece of chemical apparatus was appropriated without 
scruple. An old French injecting-syringe served him for an 
air-pump ; and he used this when- preparing his first scientific 



428 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

paper, " On the Nature of Heat and Light," which was pub- 
lished in 1799. 

It was a happy day for Davy when he concentrated his 
attention on nitrous oxide gas. His own experiences under 
its influence were delightful, and it gave him a name among 
his countrymen. He found that by its means he could produce 
sleep, delicious dreams, and involuntary laughter; and it led 
him on to further discoveries in the gaseous department of 
chemistry. With the new century a new career opened for 
the aspiring chemist. An offer of Count Rumford, in connec- 
tion with the Royal Institution, enabled him to devote himself 
entirely to science. There he became famous for his lectures, 
made his observations on flame, and constructed his safety-lamp, 
which has saved so many lives. Here, also, he made his first 
experiments in electro-chemistry, and achieved the superb tri- 
umph of decomposing substances by electricity. It was a grand 
thing to have discovered that by which you could literally take 
a substance to pieces and see the elements of which it consists. 
Having succeeded in decomposing water, he tried the effect of 
the electric current on potash and soda; and his brother says, 
" His delight when he saw the minute shining globules, like 
mercury, burst through the crust of potash and take fire as 
they reached the air, was so great that he could not contain his 
joy, — he actually bounded about the room in ecstatic delight." 
He had proved that potash was not a simple substance. He 
had discovered potassium and sodium. Thus the great princi- 
ple was ascertained that chemical affinity can be overcome by a 
stronger power ; and Davy prepared the way for Faraday, to 
whom we are most indebted for what we know respecting the 
intimate connection between electricity and chemical change. 

Agricultural chemistry likewise owes much to Sir Humphry 
Davy. While Baron Liebig, of Darmstadt, was laboring in the 
same field in Germany, Davy was the first in England to teach 
how the growth of plants depends upon the chemical condition 
of the soil wherein they are sown, how different crops ought 
to be planted in succession in order not to exhaust the soil in 
any particular field, and what manure will best restore to the 



SIR HUMPHRY DAVY. 429 

ground the elements that the crops have taken out of it. To 
Sir Humphry Davy, also, may be attributed in great part the 
knowledge of photography; for in 1 802 he and Dr. Thomas 
Wedgwood suggested that pictures might be taken by the rays 
of the sun acting chemically upon chloride of silver, and they 
even succeeded in making some pictures in this way. Daguerre 
came afterwards and completed their work, when, in 1839, he 
taught us how to fix the pictures so that they would remain. 
Another contribution of Sir Humphry Davy to the cause of 
science resulted from his taking two pieces of ice and making 
them melt by rubbing them together, without any warmth being 
brought near them. In order to be quite sure that the heat did 
not come out of the air, he made a second experiment by plac- 
ing a piece of ice under an air-pump. When he had drawn out 
all the air he set the machine to work, so that the ice, being 
rubbed, melted without any air being present. Hence he came 
to the conclusion that " heat is a peculiar motion, probably a vi- 
bration of the corpuscles of bodies, tending to separate them." 

To an unwearied industry and zeal in research, Sir Hum- 
phry Davy added accurate reasoning. He was bold, ardent 
and enthusiastic ; he commanded a wide horizon, and his keen 
vision pierced to its utmost boundary. He felt an intense 
admiration of the harmony, order, and beauty of the chemistry 
of nature ; and he expressed his feeling in language that could 
flow from none but a mind of high powers and fine sensibil- 
ities. His discoveries were fruitful in further inventions after 
he had passed away. His cylindrical oil lamp alone, covered 
with its cylinder of wire gauze and flat gauze top, has been 
an invaluable boon to society. It has been followed by many 
improvements of which it was the parent, — by the " Geordie " 
of George Stephenson's safety-lamp, by that of Museler in 
Belgium, and by the ingenious contrivances of Bidder, Gallo- 
way, Benoit-Damus, Galibert, and Denayrouze. What are 
called the Bakerian Lectures were the field in which he brought 
forward many of his most brilliant discoveries. The lecture 
theatre of the Royal Institution in his day was as frequently 
crowded by eager and fashionable audiences, as in more re- 



430 



OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



cent times they were during the demonstrations of his gifted 
successor and early helper, Faraday. 

In 1810 he was invited to Ireland, and received from Trinity 
College the honorary degree of LL.D. Two years afterwards, 
the Prince Regent at a levee at Carlton House conferred on 
him the honor of knighthood. Soon after this he gave up 
his lectureship at the Royal Institution and married. From 
this time he devoted himself to travel and literary composition. 
In 1820 he was elected President of the Royal Society; but 
though now at the head of science in England, he did not 
cease to act as a private soldier in her ranks. His Bakerian 
lecture of 1826, on the relations of electrical changes, obtained 
for him the society's royal medal. That year, however, his 
health began to fail, and he was obliged to go to Italy to 
recruit. He once more returned to England, but was again 
obliged to seek rest abroad. After spending some time in 
Austria he went to Rome, where he became seriously ill. 
He desired to be removed to Geneva, but he arrived too late. 
On May 29, 1829, he died amid the splendors of natural scen- 
ery by the lake ; and his mortal remains were laid in a cem- 
etery outside the walls of the city. The spot seemed very 
suitable as the resting-place of one who explored with enthu- 
siasm the mysteries of nature, but dwelt also with intense 
pleasure on the marvellous loveliness and phenomena of daily 
occurrence. 



MICHAEL FARADAY. 



[Born 1791. Died 1S67.] 



COME time during the year 1813, — that is, about two years 
v — * before the battle of Waterloo, — a letter was received by 
Sir Humphry Davy, the celebrated Professor of Chemistry at 
the Royal Institution, from a young man, who spoke of himself 
as engaged in trade, which he detested, and anxious to pursue 




MICHAEL FARADAY. 



MICHAEL FARADAY. 43 1 

science, which he loved. Accompanying the letter were copi- 
ous notes of Sir Humphry's lectures, showing that the writer 
was really in earnest in wishing to engage in the pursuit of 
science. At that time the great chemist was in the habit of 
frequently calling, on his way to the London Institution, at the 
house of a Mr. Pepys, one of the founders of that excellent 
school of science and literature. On one of the accustomed 
visits the letter was shown to Mr. Pepys, with the information 
that it came from a young man of the name of Faraday. " He 
has been attending my lectures," added Davy, " and wants me 
to give him employment at the Royal Institution. What can I 
do?" "Do?" replied Pepys; "put him to wash bottles. If 
he is good for anything, he will do it directly ; if he refuses, he 
is good for nothing." "No, no," rejoined Davy ; "we must try 
him with something better than that." And the warm-hearted 
Cornishman, as generous as he was gifted, wrote at once to the 
young man, and shortly afterwards engaged him as assistant in 
the laboratory. In the books of the Institution, under date of 
the 18th March, 1813, is the following entry: "Resolved, — 
That Michael Faraday be engaged to fill the situation lately 
occupied by Mr. Payne, on the same terms." The terms were 
25s. a week. 

Thus began the scientific career of the greatest experimental 
philosopher of modern times. He was the son of a journeyman 
blacksmith, and was born at Newington Butts on the 22d of 
September, 1791. At thirteen years of age he was apprenticed 
to a bookbinder in Blandford Street, Manchester Square, and 
spent eight years in what we must conclude was not altogether 
a cordial endeavor to become a binder of books. " I was for- 
merly a bookseller and binder," he says in a letter to a valued 
friend, " but am now turned philosopher, which happened thus : 
While an apprentice, I, for amusement, learnt a little chemis- 
try and other parts of philosophy, and felt an eager desire to 
proceed in that way further. After being a journeyman for six 
months under a disagreeable master, I gave up my business, and, 
through the interest of a Sir H. Davy, filled the situation of 
chemical assistant to the Royal Institution of Great Britain, in 



432 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

which office I now remain, and where I am constantly employed 
in observing the works of Nature, and tracing the manner in 
which she directs the order and arrangement of the world." 
In another letter he speaks of having learnt from the books 
which came under his hands for binding the beginnings of his 
philosophy. Two that were especially helpful to him were the 
" Encyclopaedia Britannica " and Mrs. Marcet's " Conversations 
on Chemistry." 

Like all who possess the highest type of mind, he was espe- 
cially gifted with a poetic — that is, a creative — imagination. He 
could, he says, believe as easily in the " Arabian Nights " as in 
the " Encyclopaedia." But his habit of rigidly cross-examining 
facts saved him from being carried away by mere fancies. He 
began by subjecting the statements in Mrs. Marcet's book to 
the test of what he calls " little experiments." Finding them to 
be true to fact, so far as he was capable of testing their veracity, 
he was encouraged to go on, always in the same way, however, 
of experimenting in the simplest manner and with the most 
unpretentious instruments. Some of his apparatus, even when 
he had command of the most elaborate appliances, were abso- 
lutely astonishing in their simplicity. In fact, one of the dis- 
tinguishing traits of a successful experimentist is the art of 
contriving, and this art Faraday possessed to perfection. Once 
being anxious to carry home a flower without allowing it to 
fade, and having no bouquet-holder at hand, he asked for a 
cork, and, taking a piece of letter-paper, tied it round the cork 
in the form of a tube, put in water and the flower, and thus bore 
it safely away. 

On his returning from the continental journey which he took 
with Sir Humphry Davy, and at the age of twenty-four, Fara- 
day gave his first public lecture " On the Properties of Matter." 
For five years after this he went on quietly with his duties at 
the Institution. In 1820, being then in his thirtieth year, he 
published his first paper in the " Philosophical Transactions," 
consisting of researches into certain new compounds of carbon 
and chlorine, etc. 

To enable him, on his marriage in 1 821, to continue his resi- 



MICHAEL FARADAY. 433 

dence at the Royal Institution, the managers allowed him addi- 
tional rooms. And here Mr. and Mrs. Faraday lived for many 
years. Although without any children of his own, his fondness 
for children was shown particularly in those ever-memorable 
Christmas lectures at the Royal Institution. On those occa- 
sions the enthusiasm of the lecturer spread among the audience 
until the excitement of the happy throng was almost uncon- 
trollable. Those who were present will never forget their 
delight when he showed them for the first time the decom- 
position of water into its constituent gases. Nor will they 
forget either what he told them so clearly and so pleasantly 
about the philosophy of combustion in his memorable lectures 
on the chemistry of a candle. Nowadays, in the presence of 
the telephone and the phonograph, we are so accustomed to 
scientific marvels that we scarcely wonder at anything; but 
in those days it was different. Electricity was then, like the 
rest of us, in its childhood. Its developments proved it to be 
a giant, so to speak, among physical forces ; not only children, 
but grown-up people, were amazed at its performances. 

For a few years after his marriage Faraday was much em- 
ployed in chemical analysis. 

In 1825 he published a paper in the " Philosophical Trans- 
actions," in which he announced the discovery of " benzole " 
and other hydrocarbons. This oil, called also " benzine " by 
Mitscherlich, was obtained by Faraday from among the oils 
condensed from oil gas at a pressure of thirty atmospheres. 
It can also be obtained from the benzoic acid, which is in turn 
made from gum benzoin, a sort of resin which comes from 
Sumatra. The importance of benzole is that it led to the 
discovery of a series of allied substances, one of which is ani- 
line, the base of several beautiful coloring matters. The man- 
ufacture of aniline dyes is now quite a notable branch of 
industry. 

Faraday's readiness in contriving apparatus has been alluded 
to. Another quality, or rather combination of qualities, was 
the quick intuitive glance which recognized a truth before the 
proof is complete, side by side with the philosophic caution 

28 



4 34 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

which will only accept a fact after the demonstration has been 
fully worked out. He never built on the experiments of others 
until he had gone over them himself; and it frequently hap- 
pened that during this very process ideas flashed upon his 
mind which had not occurred to the former experimenter, 
and which led to combinations or developments of the most 
important kind. 

In the course of his chemical researches he had shown 
that the old-fashioned distinction of bodies into solids, liquids, 
and gases was merely a distinction of temperature and not 
an essential quality of the things themselves. So, in electri- 
city, he soon showed clearly that the old distinction between 
electricity and magnetism was rather in the modus operandi 
than in the forces themselves ; at any rate, that there was an 
intimate connection between them. Hence the modern devel- 
opment of electro-magnetism. While carrying on experiments 
on magnets with various metals, Faraday discovered a very 
remarkable property in the metal bismuth. It is well known 
that when steel, iron, platinum, and crown-glass are magne- 
tized or electrized, if nicely balanced they will place themselves 
in the line of the electric or magnetic current, pointing out its 
direction. Hence the use of the mariner's compass. But 
bismuth was found to place itself across the current. Other 
substances, such as gold, silver, copper, lead, tin, sulphur, etc., 
which were known not to be affected in the same way as iron 
by the magnet, were found, like bismuth, to place themselves 
across the current. To this quality Faraday gave the name of 
dia-magnetism ; the other quality of lying along the current 
he called para-magnetism. He even succeeded in magnetizing 
oxygen gas, and, in his own opinion, was equally successful in 
magnetizing, or at least in deflecting, a ray of light. 1 

It was his fondness for physics that led Faraday to abandon 
his lucrative employment as a public analyst. After ten years 
of married life, from the very beginning of which he had 

1 The latter experiment has since been repeatedly exhibited. Professor Crookes 
showed it in a most satisfactory manner during the meeting of the British Associa- 
tion at Sheffield. 



MICHAEL FARADAY. 435 

openly professed the simple but earnest Christianity taught 
him by his parents, he began to ask himself what was to be 
the real purpose of his life. Was it to be money-making or 
was it to be philosophy? His very nature recoiled from 
the idea of the former. He would always be able to support 
himself honorably; why should he aim at wealth? He ac- 
cordingly gave it up, and devoted himself entirely to inde- 
pendent research. 

Thus his place is among the noblest of public benefactors, 
not in the sense of assisting in great philanthropic movements, 
but in his contributions to the sum of human knowledge. He 
lived to question Nature, to make her yield her secrets. He 
made her confess that the old-world distinctions of scientific 
phraseology were no distinctions at all. He overturned the 
old-fashioned jargons about the boundaries of science, about 
"fixed air" and "poles" and "caloric," and demonstrated 
that what had hitherto been called the forces of nature were 
in reality various modes of " force." In fact, he went very 
near showing that force was only another name for Nature 
herself. 

The correlation of the physical forces is now an established 
principle of scientific knowledge. Tyndall, Joule, Grove, 
Mayer, Crookes, and many others, are going forward in the 
van of the movement which is enlarging the " boundaries of 
science." Others had opened or battered down gates, but it 
was Faraday who overthrew the time-honored walls of the old 
fortress of ignorance formerly called Philosophy. 

In his early days scientific investigators seemed to dwell 
in various regions rigidly kept apart. Mechanics, physics, 
chemistry, were studied separately, as if the realms of Nature 
were a triarchy of distinct governments, each having its own 
peculiar code of laws, its language, and its customs. Faraday 
abolished all this. He taught by experiment and proved by 
demonstrable facts that variety exists only in the outcome of 
natural events, — that the soul, the inmost moving force, is 
unity. Such was the lofty ideal which Faraday set up in 
place of the old idols. 



436 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

We have in this rapid glance seen something of the charac- 
ter of the philosopher. We will conclude with a brief notice 
of the man. He belonged to a body of Christians among 
whom he officiated as an elder in the church, and took his 
turn among others in preaching. His sermons were of the 
plainest kind, entirely destitute of that bold speculative spirit 
which characterized his lectures on science; for it was his be- 
lief that the heart is swayed by a power to which logic and 
science bear no relation. 

By degrees his wonderful memory faded, and his health 
broke down, though not suddenly or painfully. He never 
quite got over the illness he had in 1865. He then gave up 
work entirely and forever. With the passing of the silent hours 
his life quietly ebbed away on the 25th of August, 1867. 

Not the least useful lesson in the life of this upright, noble- 
minded, and lovable man was the perfect union of the sweet 
domestic virtues with the mighty faculties of a transcendent 
intellect. It gives honor to the claims of a homely life be- 
side the demands of what are called the higher faculties, and 
goes far to break down the jealous partitions which less per- 
fect natures have striven to put up between homeliness and 
intellect. 

Other lessons of his life are perhaps equally striking, each to 
the individual reader. With his scientific and philosophical 
discoveries the world is mainly familiar. The benefits to man- 
kind which have arisen and shall still arise out of his researches 
are numberless. But his character as a man has not been 
without its weight. It has left its mark upon those who knew 
him, as they all testify. And notwithstanding some failures, 
so fully were the noblest qualities united in him, that Nature, 
into whose innermost heart he delved the deepest, — 

" Nature might stand up, 
And say to all the world, 'This was a man."' 




SIR DAVID BREWSTER. 



SIR DAVID BREWSTER. 437 



SIR DAVID BREWSTER. 

[Born 1781. Died 1S6S.] 

O IR DAVID BREWSTER'S claim to distinction rests chiefly 
*^ on his course of original discovery in the science of op- 
tics. This throws an interest over his whole life. As a child 
he enjoyed great advantages, his father being a teacher of high 
repute and rector of the grammar school at Jedburgh. In his 
boyhood the bias nature had given him for physical pursuits 
was fostered by his intimacy with a self-taught mathemati- 
cian, astronomer, and philosopher, James Veitch, of Inchbonny. 
This neighbor enjoyed much local fame, and was particularly 
skilful in making telescopes. His university career began at the 
early age of twelve, when' he was sent to Edinburgh and destined 
for the clerical profession. He finished his theological course 
and was even licensed to preach ; but nervousness and a decided 
preference for scientific pursuits prevented him from entering 
on active service in the kirk. Brougham, his fellow-student, in- 
duced him to study the inflection of light, and this was the 
beginning of his optical researches. His name must be espe- 
cially honored by every class of the great public, because his 
labors had so immediate and important a bearing on social re- 
quirements. Honors poured in upon him rapidly from his own 
country and France in consequence of his inquiries respect- 
ing (1) The laws of polarization of light by reflection and refrac- 
tion ; (2) The discovery of the polarizing structure induced by 
heat and pressure ; (3) The discovery of crystals with two axes 
of double refraction ; (4) The laws of metallic reflection ; and 
(5) Experiments on the absorption of light. Those who were 
best qualified to estimate the value of his discoveries were not 
slow to acknowledge them ; and the principal were* the discovery 
of the connection between the refractive index of the polarizing 



438 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

angle, that of biaxal crystals, and of the production of double 
refraction by irregular heat. The non-scientific public highly 
appreciated his invention, in 1816, of the kaleidoscope, — a toy 
equally elegant and philosophical, for which there was for some 
time so large a demand in England and America that the sup- 
ply could not keep pace with it. He did not actually invent the 
stereoscope, which is due to Wheatstone, but he so improved it 
by suggesting the use of lenses to unite the dissimilar pictures, 
that the lenticular stereoscope, now exclusively in use, may be 
said to have had him for its inventor. 

But the optical researches of Brewster had a far more impor- 
tant result in the vast improvement of lighthouse apparatus. 
Fresnel was laboring at the same time with himself for the like 
object in France, and was the first to put the improvements con- 
templated into operation. But it is certain that Brewster de- 
scribed the dioptric contrivance in 1812, and pressed its use on 
those in authority in 1820. It was finally introduced into Eng- 
lish lighthouses by his earnest efforts; and his memory justly 
deserves the tribute paid to it by his successor as head of the 
University of Edinburgh, who said, " Every lighthouse that burns 
round the shore of the British Empire is a shining witness to the 
usefulness of Brewster's life." It was not, however, till 1827 that 
he published his " New System of Illumination for Lighthouses," 
and offered his services to the lighthouse boards of the United 
Kingdom. Then, in 1833, experiments made in Scotland from 
Calton Hill to Gulan Hill, a distance of 12^ miles, proved that 
" one polyzonal lens, with an argand burner of four concentric 
circles, gave a light equal to nine parabolic reflectors, each car- 
rying a single argand burner." From that time the illumination 
of lighthouses has been steadily advancing. Colored lights are 
now often used, but they require more distinction. In the new 
Lizard lights the magneto-electric light is that of Faraday, the 
machine is designed by Professor Holmes, and they are worked 
by Ericson's caloric engines. 

Brewster displayed marvellous activity as a literary man, par- 
ticularly in scfentific literature. At the age of twenty he became 
editor of the " Edinburgh Magazine," and in 1808 of the " Edin- 



SIR DAVID BREWSTER. 439 

burgh Encyclopaedia." He contributed largely to the " Ency- 
clopaedia Britannica." He edited, with Jameson, the " Edinburgh 
Journal of Science," contributed seventy-five articles to the 
" North British Review," and wrote for the Transactions of va- 
rious learned societies between three and four hundred papers. 
His "Life of Newton" occupied him twenty years. His interest- 
ing " Letters on Natural Magic," addressed to Sir Walter Scott, 
and his " Martyrs of Science ; or, Lives of Galileo, Tycho Brahe, 
and Kepler," were widely read and highly valued by the public. 
He, with Herschel and Babbage, was foremost in establishing 
the British Association for the Advancement of Science, of which 
the first meeting was held in York in 1831. He was elected 
President of the British Association in 1849, and was chosen one 
of the eight foreign associates of the Institute of France in suc- 
cession to Berzelius. 

Sir David Brewster's speculations concerning the plurality of 
worlds are familiar to the reading public in consequence of his 
having supported and extended the already popular views of 
Dr. Chalmers on the same subject, and also through his hav- 
ing been opposed by Dr. Whewell, the late Master of Trinity 
College, and recently by Mr. Proctor. Sir David's work was 
entitled " More Worlds than One ; or, The Creed of the Phi- 
losopher and the Hope of the Christian." In this volume he 
combated with great force and equal ardor the narrow and de- 
grading notion of Dr. Whewell, that the innumerable suns which 
we call stars, with their planetary systems, are all rude and chaotic 
masses, devoid of mental and moral life. He believed, rather, 
and maintained the high probability of each being a centre of 
humanity, or of life analogous with that of human life. To the 
Christian this idea will commend itself all the more because he 
is taught to believe that even the unseen world around him (and 
much more the visible universe) is teeming with intelligences of 
various orders. The arguments, it may be added, of Sir John 
Herschel in his " Outlines of Astronomy," and of Professor Mil- 
ler in his " Romance of Astronomy," corroborate those of Sir 
David Brewster, and lead to the conclusion that wherever there 
are worlds there is, has been, or will be, life varying in its forms 



44° OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

and manifestations according to the various circumstances in 
which it is engendered and sustained. 

The bent of his genius, according to the last edition of the 
" Encyclopaedia Britannica," was not specially mathematical. 
In this respect he differed from Sir Isaac Newton, on whose life 
and manuscripts he dwelt so long and lovingly. He took the 
greatest pains to observe accurately and to classify facts, but he 
was not much given to theorizing. Some of the laws which he 
established, and which have been already referred to, were of 
prime importance, but they were generally the result of repeated 
experiments. He did not contribute much towards the ultimate 
explanation of the phenomena which he passed under review; 
and it may be mentioned that although he did not absolutely 
maintain the corpuscular theory to the end of his days, he did 
not, on the other hand, adopt explicitly the undulatory theory 
of light. But, in saying this, it is not meant to detract from his 
genius, but to point out one of its characteristics. " His scientific 
glory," said Professor Forbes (and few will be inclined to dis- 
sent from the verdict), " is different in kind from that of Young 
and Fresnel; but the discoverer of the law of polarization, of 
biaxal crystals, of optical mineralogy, and of double refraction 
by compression, will always occupy a foremost rank in the intel- 
lectual history of the age." It was a small distinction for him 
to receive the honor of knighthood, as he did in 183 1, and the 
decoration of the Guelphic order of Hanover. It was the talent 
he displayed in his discoveries and numerous scientific essays 
that really ennobled him. In 1838 his merits were recognized 
and rewarded in his appointment to be principal of the colleges 
of St. Salvator and St. Leonard, St. Andrews, and still more 
when, in 1859, he consented to be the head of the University of 
Edinburgh, and continued to discharge its duties diligently till 
within a few months of his death in 1868. 




SIR ROWLAND HILL. 



SIR ROWLAND HILL. 441 



SIR ROWLAND HILL. 

[Born 1795. Died 1S79.] 

HPHERE is, perhaps, no department of social progress which 
-^ has. made more rapid and decided headway than that which 
belongs to the art of travel and the conveyance of messages. 
The ease and luxury of a modern railway journey seem to have 
thrown back the formidable discomforts of the old stage-coach 
into remote antiquity. Yet it is less than a century since old 
travellers would make their wills before they journeyed from 
London to York, and nerved themselves to the undertaking as 
men who had to face a week of untold peril. Peril surrounded 
them from beginning to end, — peril from coachmen too ready to 
accept the proffered glass, — peril by stress of weather, storm, 
and snowdrift, — and last, though by no means least, peril from 
highway robbers. At arty moment of the still and ghostly 
night a glittering weapon might flash through the frail window, 
and the once famous formula, " Your money or your life," ring 
in the drowsy ears of the half-conscious traveller. In 1779 the 
Chester mail was robbed in the City Road. Now and then, in 
the darkness and confusion, a passenger would get tied neck 
and heels, and pitched into the basket in mistake for the robber. 
Of course robbery was comparatively easy when the average 
speed of travelling in England was under five miles an hour, 
and in the case of the letter post three miles and a half. A 
coach that left London for Bath in the afternoon was looked 
upon as a " highflyer " if it reached its destination by the follow- 
ing morning. Before 1784, when Mr. Palmer, of the Bristol 
Theatre, introduced the mail-coach system, the manner and 
means, and of course the pace, of locomotion were most in- 
credibly slow. 

Mediaeval illuminations represent Apollo — of course in con- 
temporary costume — leisurely climbing the celestial heights in 



442 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

a good solidly built " plaustrum," drawn by a team of most 
deliberate heavy-heeled dobbins ; no doubt representing the 
mediaeval idea of a gentlemanlike pace. In downright seri- 
ousness it was the pace with which our forefathers were 
calmly content. And not only so, but some of them violently 
protested against its increase. So late as 1797, when Mr. 
Palmer proposed further improvements on his system with re- 
gard to the rate of travelling, a Mr. Hodgson, one of the post- 
office authorities, opposed the alteration as worthless because 
founded on an impossibility. The " impossibility " consisted 
in supposing that the Bath letters could be brought to Lon- 
don in sixteen or eighteen hours. Mr. Palmer's plan, however, 
was adopted ; and the result was that five hundred places ob- 
tained a daily delivery which before had only had one three 
times a week. For twenty years previously the revenue from 
the postal system had averaged ,£150,000 a year. In ten years it 
increased to £400,000. In ten years more it reached £700,000, 
and in twenty years more, £1,500,000. Whoever would like to 
consult the history of this movement will find it in the Parlia- 
mentary Papers for 1807-8 and 18 13. "In 1838 a plan calculated 
not only further to increase the utility of this branch of the pub- 
lic service, but to revolutionize the whole management, was pri- 
vately submitted to the Government and afterwards published 
as a pamphlet. This production — an ingenious, profound, 
and convincing argument — was the work of the truly world- 
wide benefactor, Rowland Hill, who was then forty-two years of 
age, and had been employed for almost the whole of his life, 
from a mere lad, in the business of a schoolmaster. 

He was born on December 3, 1795, at Kidderminster, "quite 
unexpectedly," says his biographer, his birth being prema- 
ture. He was the third son of Mr. Thomas Hill, afterwards a 
noted schoolmaster in Birmingham. From the extreme deli- 
cacy of his health as an infant, it was only by the devoted and 
constant attention of his mother that the child's life was pro- 
longed. Sir Isaac Newton was another instance of a life begun 
thus prematurely, yet extended beyond the usual length. 

Rowland Hill's earliest amusement was counting up figures 



SIR ROWLAND HILL. 443 

aloud as he lay on his couch beside the fire, until he had 
reached a total of hundreds of thousands. Thus early did he 
show his natural aptitude for computation. As his strength 
increased he was able to attend his father's school, where he 
made extraordinary progress, particularly in mathematics. At 
quite an early age he assisted in teaching these subjects both 
in his father's school and elsewhere. 

During the next ten years Hill gave occasional lectures at 
the Philosophical Institution in Birmingham, usually on subjects 
connected with science or mathematics. One of his discourses 
was on the " Advantage of Systematic Arrangement," and his 
own character was an illustration of the value of what he taught. 
He enforced the love of order and method upon all his pupils 
until the practice of these valuable qualities became a second 
nature. 

The school of the elder Hill at Hazlewood, in the Hagley 
Road, Birmingham, was famous throughout England; and it 
fully deserved its reputation, for it was conducted on the noblest 
and soundest principles. One rule was never to use corporal 
punishment, — a practice then common in schools of every 
class. In place of it a system of self-government, superin- 
tended by the masters, was found to be perfectly efficient and 
satisfactory. Father and sons worked together with the most 
perfect cordiality and unanimity, and the result in twenty years 
was an establishment consisting of more than two hundred 
persons. 

In 1827 Rowland removed to Bruce Castle, Tottenham, hav- 
ing in that year married the daughter of Mr. Pearson, of Grais- 
ley, near Wolverhampton. She was a lady whose tastes were 
precisely such as enabled her to be a most valuable assistant to 
her husband. Throughout his various wearisome investigations 
she steadily worked as his amanuensis, analyzing and compil- 
ing statistics, and writing early and late from his dictation. 

In 1833 he retired from the school on account of broken 
health, and passed some months on the Continent. The next 
year we find him in England as the secretary of the new Co- 
lonial Exploration Association. The power of organization 



444 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

formerly shown in the successful management of a large school, 
now proved itself equal to the rapid development of the asso- 
ciation. In 1836 a colonial government was established, and 
in 1 841 a policy inaugurated that laid the foundation of the 
future prosperity of the colony. 

We now arrive at that period in the life of this gigantic 
worker, this genius, — if genius, as is said by some, means a 
tremendous capacity for hard work, — when to do him justice 
we should require a volume, and not the few brief lines we have 
now at our disposal. The deficiencies of the old postal system 
have already been glanced at, but it would be sufficiently near 
the truth to say that the so-called system was simply a mass of 
anomaly and mismanagement. Delay in transmission of letters 
was one of its smallest inconveniences. The rates charged for 
postage were enormous. Double letters, — that is, two sheets of 
paper, — however thin or however weighty, were charged double 
postage. The charge from London to Birmingham was nine- 
pence. Stamps and envelopes were of course as yet unknown. 
The smallest note from a distant part of the country was 
charged is. 6d. and upwards, a packet from Edinburgh to 
London costing three times as much as would now be charged 
for a substantial letter to the Antipodes. 

One thing that added greatly to the burden of these charges 
was the usage of society. It was considered to be against 
good taste to prepay a letter, so that it was within the means of 
any one to victimize the person whom he selected as his corre- 
spondent. Many a poor cottager had to go without a meal to 
pay for a letter which he dare not refuse, lest it should contain 
news of vital importance to him. Many people avoided the 
pressure of the postage tax by availing themselves of what 
were called " franks." " Franks " were the signatures of mem- 
bers of Parliament, which being placed on the front of a letter 
made it post free. Of course this prerogative of Parliament 
rendered its exercise anything but a sinecure. Members were 
pestered for signatures. Nobody thought it mean to beg for 
franks, and it is even affirmed that certain members made 
money of their privilege by selling their autographs at so 



SIR ROWLAND HILL. 445 

much a dozen. All that was necessary was to write the name 
on a sheet of paper in such a way that when folded for trans- 
mission it should appear beside the address. Before the cus- 
tom finally disappeared, however, the law insisted that the whole 
address should be in the franker's handwriting and the date sub- 
joined. But besides this mode of evading payment there were 
numerous others. The contraband trade was enormous. All 
kinds of means were made use of to evade the law. Parcels of 
letters were sent by coach. Drivers, guards, carriers, pedestrians, 
carried their pockets stuffed with them. In some places not 
more than one letter in fifty passed through the post-office. 
In short, public morality on the question of postages was 
thoroughly unsound. 

Such was the state of things when the pamphlet on " Post- 
Office Reform, its Importance and Practicability " made its ap- 
pearance. The main features of the plan were: (1) A great 
diminution in the rates of postage; (2) Increased speed in the 
delivery of letters ; and (3) More frequent opportunity for their 
despatch. 

Mr. Hill proposed that the rate of postage should be unir- 
form,, and charged according to weight, and that payment should 
be made in advance. The means of doing so by stamps was 
not suggested in the first edition of the pamphlet, and Mr. Hill 
said the idea did not originate with him. In a later issue the 
matter is thus referred to : " Perhaps the difficulties might be 
obviated by using a bit of paper just large enough to bear the 
stamp, and covered at the back with a glutinous wash, which 
by applying a little moisture might be attached to the back of 
the letter." 

The justice and feasibility of a uniform rate rested on the 
fact which Mr. Hill made out from his inquiry, that the actual 
cost of conveying letters from London to Edinburgh, when 
divided among the letters carried, did not exceed one penny 
for thirty-six letters; that is, taking the average weight of a 
letter at a quarter of an ounce, the cost of its transmission was 
not more than the ninth part of a farthing. And the post- 
office charged is. 6d., and yet could not make it pay ! 



446 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

The scheme startled not merely the officials but the public 
generally. Yet the more it was looked into, the more practi- 
cable it became. Five petitions in its favor reached Parliament 
in the very year it was propounded. In 1838 more than three 
hundred found their way to the Legislature. In the following 
year two thousand petitions were presented to both Houses. 
The Duke of Richmond, ex-Postmaster-General, advised the 
adoption of the plan, and the Chancellor of the Exchequer 
provided a bill to enable the Treasury to put it into execution. 
In September, 1839, Mr. Hill was made superintendent to 
carry his system into effect. On the 5th of December, as a 
preparatory measure to accustom the department to the mode 
of charging by weight, the inland rates were reduced to a uni- 
form charge of <\d. per half-ounce, and a scale was based on 
the half-ounce, ascending to sixteen ounces. No long trial was 
necessary. The temporary measure only lasted about one 
month. On the 10th of January, 1840, a uniform rate of \d. 
per half-ounce was adopted, and the system with which the 
name of Rowland Hill is evermore associated became a matter 
of history. 

Penny postage is of course the great boon for which the 
name of benefactor is added to that of the inventor. But his 
beneficial services do not end with this great work. The pres- 
ent money-order system was also his suggestion; and many 
minor improvements of both departments, adding greatly to 
the efficiency of the service, emanated from his fertile and crea- 
tive brain. In 1839 the whole amount of money-orders was 
only £313,000. In 1863 the amount was £16,493,793. 

The honor of knighthood, £33,360 in public gifts, a pension 
of £2,000 a year, and a statue in Birmingham were among 
the recognitions of the vast benefits which his great and self- 
denying labors had conferred upon the community. But his 
services were more than even national. The whole civilized 
world has benefited by his inventions and suggestions. His 
fame, therefore, rests with the world at large. "And though 
men," says the "Edinburgh Review," 1 "who have risked their 
1 Vol. cxx. p. 93. 




SIR CHARLES LYELL. 



SIR CHARLES LYELL. 447 

lives on fields of battle, or borne the whole burden of public 
affairs, may have claims to more stately rewards, we know of 
no man who has conferred a greater amount of practical benefit 
upon his fellow-creatures than the unassuming author of 'Post- 
age Reform.' " In 1863 Sir Rowland Hill was compelled 
through declining health to seek temporary repose. The fol- 
lowing year he resigned his office entirely; and so completely 
did he withdraw from public life that by many persons he was 
supposed to have died years ago. But he still quietly lived 
on in his home at Hampstead. The latest of the many personal 
honors that his grateful countrymen were only too anxious to 
press upon him was the freedom of the City of London. In 
August, 1879, his infirmity, which had long rendered him un- 
able to support an ordinary conversation, increased so rapidly 
as to convince himself and his family that his end was near. It 
came on the 27th, when he died quite peacefully, as it were 
weary and worn out with his long life of service. On Septem- 
ber 4, at noon, he was buried in Westminster Abbey. 



SIR CHARLES LYELL. 

[Born 1797. Died 1875.] 

CHARLES LYELL was the eldest son of a botanist of 
more than a local reputation. His early education was 
received at Midhurst, in Sussex, from whence he passed to 
Exeter College, Oxford, taking his degree of B.A. in 18 19, 
and that of M.A. in 1821. Here he had the opportunity of 
attending the lectures of Dr. Buckland, Professor of Geology, 
and thus acquired a taste for the science of which he after- 
wards became so conspicuous and distinguished a cultivator. 
He was, however, destined for the bar, and came to London to 
pursue the study of the law. He commenced practice as a 
barrister; but having an independent fortune he relinquished 



448 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

that profession and devoted himself to the study of geology, thus 
maturing the inclination which had been previously awakened 
and fostered by the above learned professor in his early college 
days, depriving the legal profession of an advocate of whose 
ability it is impossible to speculate, and giving to the world of 
science one of its greatest geologists. 

In 1824 he travelled for scientific purposes in Switzerland, 
France, Germany, and Italy. His earliest geological papers 
were contributed in the following year to the " Transactions " 
of the newly founded Geological Society, of which he was 
one of the first members, and to the " Edinburgh Journal of 
Science ; " and from the commencement until a late period 
of his life, he enriched the " Transactions " with his valuable 
contributions. One of the earliest papers was published in 
the second volume of those " Transactions," and was entitled 
" On a Recent Formation of Fresh-Water Limestone in For- 
farshire, and on some Recent Deposits of Fresh-Water Marl; 
with a Comparison of Recent with Ancient Fresh-Water For- 
mations." 

Many similar works appeared in " Geological Transactions," 
and in this year he also wrote an article in the " Quarterly 
Review," on " Scrope's Geology of Central France." These 
papers all indicated powers of observation and comparison ot 
a high order, and prepared the geological world for the ap- 
pearance of the work on which, above all others, the reputation 
of Sir Charles Lyell mainly rests. How profound and fruitful 
his studies and speculations must have been during this period, 
when he gave to the world his " Principles of Geology," — 
the first volume in 1830, the second in 1833 ! Such, however, 
was the impression produced by this work, that second edi- 
tions of the first and second volumes were required before the 
third volume appeared. A third edition of the whole work of 
four volumes appeared in May, 1834, a fourth edition in 1835, 
and a fifth in 1837. 

This book marks an epoch in the progress of the science. 
Lyell's aim was to establish principles, to lay a solid and phil- 
osophical basis for the science; and this by showing that a 



SIR CHARLES LYELL. 449 

true and sufficient explanation of the phenomena of the past 
is furnished by the belief in the uniform action of forces now 
in operation. This view, which had been set forth by Hutton, 
has been called Uniformitarianism, and stands opposed to the 
then prevailing doctrine of Catastrophism. For some time 
it had to pass through the usual ordeal of theological alarm 
and denunciation, but has now long been accepted and taken 
its place as part of the general inheritance of knowledge. The 
work was in 1838 separated into two parts; the portion relating 
to the ancient history of the earth being published by itself, 
under the title of " Elements of Geology." This title was 
changed in 185 1 into "Manual of Elementary Geology," but 
the original title was restored to the sixth edition published 
in 1865. Of the "Principles," eleven editions appeared during 
the author's lifetime, and a twelfth was in preparation when 
he died. Both works have been translated into several Euro- 
pean languages. 

The author's account in his ninth edition of the " Principles," 
to use his own language, "treats of such portions of the econ- 
omy of existing nature, animate and inanimate, as are illus- 
trative of geology, so as to comprise an investigation of the 
permanent effects of causes now in action, which may serve 
as records to after ages of the present condition of the globe 
and its inhabitants. Such effects are the enduring monuments 
of the ever-varying state of the physical geography of the 
globe, — the lasting signs of its destruction and renovation, 
and the memorials of the equally fluctuating condition of the 
organic world. They may be regarded as a symbolical lan- 
guage in which the earth's autobiography is written. In the 
manual of ' Elementary Geology,' on the other hand, I have 
treated briefly of the component materials of the earth's crust, 
their arrangement and relative position, and their organic 
contents, which, when deciphered by aid of the key supplied 
by the study of the modern changes above alluded to, reveal 
to us the annals of a grand succession of past events, — a se- 
ries of revolutions which the solid exterior of the globe and 
its living inhabitants have experienced in times antecedent 

29 



450 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

to the creation of man." It was undoubtedly the " Principles" 
that called the attention of geologists to the necessity of re- 
garding the past changes of the earth's surface as resulting 
from causes now in operation. It met, however, with great 
opposition from those who imagined that it interfered with 
the authoritative declaration of Scripture. Sir Charles Lyell's 
own university was most decided in its opposition to the new 
views, although its able professor of geology was not so. His 
view is acknowledged as consistent with a philosophical pur- 
suit of geological science. 

From a very early period in the history of human intelli- 
gence a notion has been entertained that the various forms ot 
animals and plants which inhabit or have inhabited the surface 
of the earth are modifications of one common form, and that 
the more complicated have grown out of or been developed 
from the simpler forms of animal and vegetable life. Sir 
Charles Lyell opposed this view, and denied that in the his- 
tory of the strata there is any evidence that the lowest forms 
of animals were created first. The only fact he admits favor- 
ing the hypothesis of development is the late appearance of 
man on the surface of the earth. Regarding negative evidence 
as no support to any theory of progress, he sees no reasonable 
objection to the anticipation that the highest forms of mamma- 
lia, except man, should be found in the lowest Silurian rocks. 
This is still occupying the minds of the most distinguished 
palaeontologists of the present day. 

Sir Charles Lyell twice visited the United States, and deliv- 
ered courses of lectures before the scientific institutions of 
this country. His chief aim, however, was to examine the 
geology of the New World. His papers on this subject are 
very numerous and important, and were published in the " Pro- 
ceedings and Transactions of the Geological Society." 

In addition to these papers, Sir Charles published two works 
giving an account of his travels in America. The first ap- 
peared in 1841, and was entitled "Travels in North America," 
with geological observations on the United States, Canada, and 
Nova Scotia, two volumes, octavo, with a geological map. 



SIR CHARLES LYELL. 451 

These volumes contain an account of personal incident as well 
as popular descriptions of geological districts visited. In this 
volume he describes the educational institutions of America, 
and strongly insists on their superiority to our own similar 
institutions, on account of the extensive cultivation of the nat- 
ural sciences. In his second journey he visited the Southern 
States, and records in his work his personal adventures, to- 
gether with an account of the geology of the districts through 
which he passed. This work is entitled " A Second Visit to 
the United States," published in 1845. 

Mr. Darwin's famous book on " The Origin of Species " 
having appeared in 1859, Sir Charles Lyell, then past sixty, 
gave a searching investigation to the new views of the very 
early existence of man upon the earth, and in his important 
work entitled " The Antiquity of Man" (1863), announced his 
full adhesion to them. They were also embodied in the next 
(tenth) edition of his " Principles." Besides these great works 
he contributed many scientific memoirs to the " Proceedings 
and Transactions of the Geological Society," the " Reports of 
the British Association," of which he was an active mem- 
ber and office-holder, and " Silliman's Journal of American 
Science." 

The world gave him honors in abundance in recognition of 
his services to science. He received from her Majesty the 
honor of knighthood in 1848, and in 1853 had the gratification 
of having conferred on him the honorary degree of D.C.L. 
by his own university of Oxford. He was raised," in 1864, on 
the recommendation of the then Premier, Lord Palmerston, 
to a baronetcy, which became extinct by his decease. He 
was a deputy-lieutenant for his native county of Forfarshire. 
He was president of the British Association at the meeting 
at Bath in 1864, when he delivered an elaborate address on 
the antiquity of man. 

Sir Charles married, in 1832, the eldest daughter of Mr. 
Leonard Horner. She died in 1873, leaving no children. Sir 
Charles died in London, February 22, 1875. 

In compliance with a memorial signed by fellows of the 



45 2 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Royal Geological and Linnsan Societies, his remains were 
interred in Westminster Abbey. The funeral took place on 
the 27th, and was attended by the leading men of science and 
many persons of distinction. 



HUGH MILLER. 

[Born 1802. Died 1856.] 

HUGH MILLER was emphatically a man of purpose. In 
his earliest boyhood he gave signs of that indomitable 
will which in later years was to lead him to success. His father, 
best known to us through Hugh's sketch of him in " Schools 
and Schoolmasters," was a sailor. Descended from a long line 
of seafaring men, the elder Hugh Miller was a man of the ut- 
most regularity of temperament, opposing a serene front to 
misfortune, and enjoying in an equable fashion such pleasures 
as fell to his share. 

Steadfast in resolution and aim, fearless in the interest of 
others, utterly forgetful of self in all the relations of life, he 
could not but bequeath a noble heritage to his son. From his 
mother's side Hugh Miller was to receive the passionate, imagi- 
native, and- emotional characteristics of the Highland Scots. 
Mrs. Miller was a firm believer in second sight; and when, after 
the death of her husband at sea, she devoted herself to the task 
of supporting her three children by her needle, her fancy found 
rich field for its exercise. 

Her chief occupation was the making of shrouds ; and when 
Hugh was between five and six years old she would draw his 
attention to the raps on her work-table, or the winding-sheet in 
her candle, as signs of another death to come in the neighbor- 
hood. Agitated and upset by her weird narratives, little Hugh 
would creep to his bed and hide his head under the clothes to 



F/S//ES OF THE OLD RED S A A/ D ST ONE 




HUGH MILLER. 



HUGH MILLER. 453 

escape the monotonous click, click, of his mother's needle, or the 
recurrence of the ghostly visitants expected by her. 

The eldest of the little family, Hugh was born at Cromarty, 
in the North of Scotland, upon the ioth of October, 1802. He 
was five years of age when his father died during a storm at sea; 
and in after life he constantly recurred to a vision which he 
deemed supernatural, and which appeared to him upon the eve 
of his father's loss. 

After his father's death he owed h's education to his mother's 
brothers, who are known to us in his book as Uncle James and 
Uncle Sandy. Both must have been superior men. Living 
close at hand, they took charge of the two little girls, and pro- 
posed to devote their best consideration to Hugh's prospects. 
In accordance with their advice he was sent, at the age of six, to a 
dame school ; and when he had discovered, to use his own words, 
that " the art of reading is the art of finding stories in books," 
his life became a joy to him. He spent all his spare time in 
devouring such books as came in his way, his prime favorites 
being the " Pilgrim's Progress " and Pope's " Homer." 

A year later, Hugh was launched into the parish school, and 
found himself a unit among one hundred and twenty others. 
His school career reflects no credit upon him. He was set down 
by the masters as a dunce, not because he could not, but because 
he would not, learn in a regular way. His reading meanwhile 
bore fruit ; he charmed his fellow-learners with tales drawn from 
history or imagination, and while his unlearned tasks elicited 
from his masters that he was a dullard, the lads who were his 
contemporaries recognized him to be far superior to them in 
imagination and intellect. In this estimate his uncles joined, 
and in spite of the master's denunciations held fast to their idea 
that he would one day prove himself worthy of their faith in 
him. His Uncle Sandy particularly, observing his interest in 
natural history, did all in his power to form his taste. 

When he was twelve years old, an adventure to which he re- 
fers in more than one of his works befell him. Going with one 
of his schoolfellows, a lad younger than himself, to explore a 
cave on the shore, they were overtaken by the tide, and only 



454 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

after an interval of terrible anxiety were rescued by some fisher- 
men. Somewhat later, a visit to his relations in the Highlands 
of Scotland increased his interest in nature, and he amused him- 
self during his leisure hours in a somewhat original way. Draw- 
ing maps of the country in the sand, he arranged colored shells 
in the different compartments to represent inhabitants, and, as 
king of his imaginary realm, designed roads, canals., and harbors, 
proceeding to govern in accordance with the views he had 
gathered from books. 

Returning to Cromarty to finish his school career, his favorite 
game consisted in heading a party of his schoolfellows and 
spending a day in exploring the caverns below the precipices 
of Cromarty. His school record continued disastrous. Apply 
himself he would not, and for weeks together he played truant. 
His little sisters died suddenly, and he overheard his mother 
regretting that it had not rather pleased God to take her boy. 
For a moment he was moved, but the impression soon faded 
away. He himself relates that at this time he was an atheist ; 
and when after a final contest with the " dominie " he left 
school, it was with a reputation far from enviable. 

In 1 8 19 Mrs. Miller married again, and Hugh awoke to the 
perception that he must choose a career. From early boyhood 
he had indulged in writing, and a manuscript magazine named 
the " Village Observer " was carried on by him up to the Febru- 
ary of the year following this event. In March, 1820, he was 
apprenticed to a stone-mason in the village, and a life little 
congenial .to his tastes began. His master was his mother's 
brother-in-law, old David Wright, a character in his way, but with 
little sympathy for his imaginative nephew. The toil in the 
stone-mason's yard had a sobering effect upon Hugh's character ; 
his strong will came into force. He determined, having chosen 
his career, to excel in it; and, after a few months' awkwardness, 
astonished his master and fellow-apprentices by becoming one 
of the most expert hewers in the village. 

Recognized as an expert workman, Hugh Miller became at- 
tached to a regular squad of masons; and we find him pursuing 
his calling in various parts of the country, occupying his leisure 



HUGH MILLER. 455 

in writing long letters to his friend William Ross, a painter's 
apprentice, whose genius was second only to his own. 

Under the pressure of work unsuited to his nature Hugh 
Miller's health gave way, and it was a fortunate thing that the 
expiration of his apprenticeship on the nth of November, 1822, 
allowed of his return home. He was now a journeyman; and 
his first work was a stone house, still in existence, built for an 
aunt whose means scarcely allowed of her paying rent. He had 
difficulty at first in obtaining employment, and in the interval 
wrote many poems, which he sent to his friend William Ross. 
Work, when at last it was offered, took him to the West of Ross- 
shire ; but there an accident, in which his foot was crushed, for 
some weeks disabled him. 

In 1823 he first visited Edinburgh, where he soon obtained 
employment, and remaining in the neighborhood at Niddrie he 
worked at his trade for two seasons, returning to Cromarty with 
health so impaired from the hardships of his life that he antici- 
pated death. His lungs had been permanently injured by ex- 
posure and hard living, but his suffering could not quench his 
spirit. Letters and poems of this period of his life attest the 
increasing power of his genius, and that wonderful love of na- 
ture which was to assist in his later development. Religious diffi- 
culties met him as his intellectual culture ripened, and his letters 
to his friend tell of many a struggle and battle before he could 
write truly of a "change of heart that had brought him peace." 

In 1825 Hugh Miller visited Inverness in search of work. In 
this quest he was unsuccessful ; but forming during his visit the 
acquaintance of the editor of the " Inverness Courier " he was in- 
duced to allow some of his poems to be printed. In spite of 
the welcome his verses received, and the gratifying comments 
of the critics, Hugh himself decided that his poetic faculty was 
not worthy of further cultivation, and determined to devote 
himself to prose. In this year he lost by death his two uncles, 
who had stood to him in the relation of parents, and also his 
great friend William Ross. 

In 1831 Hugh Miller met Miss Fraser, who afterwards became 
his wife. To her influence we are mainly indebted for his deter- 



456 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

mination to devote all his leisure to prose works and to the investi- 
gation of scientific theories. Encouraged by her he proceeded 
with his first book. And anxious above all else to provide a 
fitting home for his promised wife, he sought employment 
which might raise him socially. He was offered a clerkship in 
a bank, and was soon temporarily established in the Commer- 
cial Bank at Linlithgow. While giving much of his attention to 
the details cf a business which was essentially new to him, 
Hugh Miller completed and corrected the proofs of his first 
prose work, " Scenes and Legends in the North of Scotland." 
Its success was his introduction to society. He was now to be 
sought out and encouraged ; and his prospects improving he was 
able, upon the 7th of January, 1837, to marry the lady he had 
so long loved. 

The newly married couple settled in Cromarty, the wife add- 
ing something to their small income by taking pupils. The first 
sorrow that clouded their happiness was the death of a little 
daughter who was inexpressibly dear to her father. The head- 
stone for her grave was chiselled by his hand, and was the last 
occasion of his practising his early handicraft. 

Hugh Miller for a while threw himself ardently into literature, 
taking up the questions of the day with great earnestness, and 
advocating reforms in the leading newspapers; but the quiet 
years as they succeeded each other increased the attraction 
which science had ever possessed for him. His books had 
already attracted the attention of men of intellect, and a chapter 
in " Scenes and Legends" upon geological formations was the 
occasion of more than one letter from scientific men. In 1838 
we find him in correspondence with Sir William Murchison and 
Mr. Agassiz as to the strata of the Old Red Sandstone, and from 
that time till his death his scientific researches were unwearying. 

At this time the ecclesiastical questions which agitated Scot- 
land aroused the deepest interest in Hugh Miller's mind, and in 
1840 he settled in Edinburgh to undertake the editorship of 
the " Witness," a paper started on behalf of the Non-Intrusion 
party in the Church of Scotland. In this paper some of his 
first geological articles were published. They were afterwards 



HUGH MILLER. 457 

collected under the title of " The Old Red Sandstone." Con- 
taining as they did an accurate account of his discoveries in 
palaeontology, they aroused the attention not only of the literary 
world but of the entire public ; and the enthusiasm which was 
already felt for his moral character as the champion of the Na- 
tional Church was increased by the fresh evidence of his genius 
which every number of his paper revealed. 

The immense labor imposed upon Hugh Miller before the 
final disruption of the Church so seriously impaired his health 
that for a long time he was forced to give up all literary effort. 
When he resumed his pen it was once more to labor indefati- 
gably in the interests of the Free Church, with which his name 
is inseparably connected. 

In 1848 he visited England, and upon his return published 
his " First Impressions of England and her People." The 
good which Hugh Miller's works have done for the cause of 
science is inestimable ; for his genius not only developed new 
truths, but overcame old errors and established, above all, the 
independence of science. " The Testimony of the Rocks," his 
last book, was an attempt to reconcile the truths of geology 
with the facts of the Creation as given in Genesis. 

In 1850 Hugh Miller was elected secretary to the Geological 
Department of the British Association for the Advancement of 
Science, an office which he filled until his death. 

When we reflect what an immense amount of work was 
crowded into those years of the great Scottish geologist's life, 
it is little surprising that serious symptoms of brain disease re- 
vealed themselves. Terrible visions haunted his highly strung 
mind ; fear, unnatural and hideous, took possession of him, and 
under the terrible influence of a distraught fancy he imagined 
himself pursued by demons. In a moment of paroxysmal mania he 
died by his own hand during the night of December 23-24, 1856. 

This sad ending could not spoil the nobility of a life devoted 
to the cause of humanity and science. In history Hugh Miller 
will be honored as the true gentleman ; and in the annals of dis- 
tinguished men few can be found more worthy a nation's esteem, 
than the " Stone-mason of Cromarty." 



458 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



SIR CHARLES WHEATSTONE. 

[Born 1802. Died 1875.] 

AS several of the more brilliant and widely useful discov- 
eries and inventions have been unappreciated by the 
general public for a long period after they were first notified 
to them, and as by far the greater portion of these scientific 
results have proved unremunerative to their authors for many 
years after they originated, it is very satisfactory to learn 
that the subject of this memoir was one of those fortunate 
individuals who not only gained many honors, but earned 
good if not excellent pecuniary reward for his splendid 
scientific labors within a reasonable time after they were 
completed. 

This eminent physicist and inventor was born in 1802 at 
Gloucester, where his father was a music-seller. The son, 
having been brought up as a musical-instrument maker, set up 
business for himself in London in 1823. Possessing, however, a 
fertile inventive mind, and having made many important re- 
searches and experiments of a scientific character, he notified 
some valuable discoveries in his " New Experiments of Sound," 
which were published in that year. In 1832 he sent a paper 
to the Royal Society, " On the Acoustic Figures of Vibrating 
Surfaces," and was appointed, two years afterwards, Professor 
of Experimental Philosophy at King's College in London. At 
this establishment he completed his researches upon the ve- 
locity of electric transmission by means of revolving mirrors, 
an experimental system which has been used with great 
success by other persons in other branches of physical science. 
Wheatstone also pointed out the possibility of distinguishing 
metals according to the spectrum character of the electric 
spark passed between them ; and an apparatus was invented 




SIR CHARLES WHEATSTONE. 



SIR CHARLES WHEATSTONE. 459 

by him for the measurement of electrical resistance. He also 
invented the polar clock, for ascertaining the time by the 
position of the plane of polarization of the light of the polar 
sky, and the catoptric stereoscope. 

But by far the greatest service he rendered for the good of 
mankind, and one for which he has attained a world-wide fame, 
is his practical application of the electric telegraph for public 
purposes ; and this, it is claimed, Wheatstone, with the mechan- 
ical assistance of a Mr. Cooke, was the first to introduce for 
practical purposes. 

Consequently, in May, 1837, they took out a patent in their 
joint names " for improvements in giving signals and sounding 
alarums in distant places by means of electric currents trans- 
mitted through metallic circuits." Other patents were after- 
wards obtained by them, either individually or in co-operation, 
for various improvements upon their first method ; but the 
great principles of this remain unchanged, and form an essen- 
tial part of nearly all the later telegraphic instruments of 
other inventors. Immediately after the date of their first pat- 
ent, wires were laid down on the London and Northwestern 
Railway between Euston Square and Camden Town stations, 
a mile and a quarter apart, and messages were effectually sent 
between them. The first telegraph used for public purposes 
was fixed in 1838 on the London and Blackwall line. In the 
following year permission was given to use the apparatus on 
the Great Western Railway as far as West Drayton, which was 
only thirteen miles, and it was afterwards extended five miles 
beyond this to Slough. In these trials, as well as in the one 
on the London and Blackwall Railway, the wires were enclosed 
in iron tubes placed on the ground. Notwithstanding the 
successful experiments of the telegraph, the directors of the 
Great Western Railway were opposed to wires being placed 
between Paddington station and Bristol, while the general pub- 
lic, who were allowed to transmit messages by this instrument, 
availed themselves but little of the advantage for some years 
after it was first introduced. An event, however, occurred in 
1845, which at once manifested its great utility and heightened 



460 



OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



its estimation wonderfully. In that year it was used to send 
a message to the London police to arrest Tawell on a charge 
of murder, who was travelling by an express train to escape 
being captured. 

The Electric Telegraph Company purchased their earlier pat- 
ents for .£120,000, and their system was quickly extended over 
Europe by this and other rival companies ; and shortly afterwards 
no railway was considered complete without a good supply of 
telegraph wires. It is now considered indispensable that every 
important city and town shall be provided with means of tele- 
graphic communication with other cities and towns, and that 
the wires shall be laid down on all new trunk and branch lines. 
The charge for the transmission of intelligence has also been 
considerably reduced, and messages are sent on an immense 
variety of subjects. It is interesting to know that, according 
to returns published in 1879, the entire length of telegraphic 
lines over the globe was then no less than 431,761 miles, 
which are divided among the several continents as follows : 
namely, Africa, 7,999; America, 127,980; Asia, 24,760; Aus- 
tralasia, 36,692 ; Europe, 234,330 miles. The total length of 
wireage is about three times this length. It was also estimated 
that there were about 230,089 miles of cable laid down. But 
even these figures have been enormously increased. 

Frequent controversies -have arisen as to who should rightly 
be considered the first contriver of the electric telegraph for 
popular use. Two names have been prominently mentioned 
to dispute Wheatstone's claim to this distinction ; namely, 
Steinheil, of Munich, and Morse, of New York. It appears, 
according to a statement of M. Arago to the French Academy 
of Sciences, that the telegraph of the former was in use on 
he 19th of July, 1837, f° r a distance of seven miles, being the 
same month in which Wheatstone and Cooke tested their ap- 
paratus on the London and Northwestern Railway. 

The reason, however, which gives Wheatstone a priority of 
claim over Steinheil beyond the fact of his patent being ob- 
tained in the preceding month and being based upon many 
previously good successful experiments, is that until August, 



SIR CHARLES WHEATSTONE. 46 1 

1838, Steinheil published no description of his means of tele- 
graphic communication, which he altered and improved in 
the interval; and the only information we have of his instru- 
ment describes its improved form. His apparatus, however, 
was a very meritorious one ; for in addition to its other ex- 
cellent qualities, Steinheil was the first to employ the earth 
to complete the circuit. But in its mechanical arrangements 
it was considerably inferior to Wheatstone's telegraph, and the 
former soon gave it up and adopted a modification of the 
contrivance of Morse. The celebrated dot-and-dash, or regis- 
tration, system of this American professor, which has been 
generally used throughout the United States as its means of 
telegraph) 7 , is treated of in the succeeding article. 

The rapid interchange of intelligence between individuals 
resident in different nations and states and in different cities 
and towns, as well as within many of the great centres of popu- 
lation which Professor Wheatstone really commenced by his 
telegraphic system ; and the splendid and most useful results 
which have followed from the early receipt of political, mer- 
cantile., and other news, both public and private, after it is 
committed to the telegraphic wires, — have been so marvel- 
lous and almost immeasurably beneficial, that no reasonable 
person who is acquainted with the grand experiments of 
this eminent man can justly question his title to be ranked 
among the more distinguished of our permanent cosmopolitan 
benefactors. 

As to the honors which were conferred upon^his illustrious 
professor, these were both important and numerous. In 1840, 
and again in 1843, he was awarded the Royal Medal of the 
Royal Society as a high acknowledgment of his meritorious 
experimental researches. He was also appointed vice-pres- 
ident of this society, and a corresponding member of the Im- 
perial Institute of France and of the chief scientific academies 
of the principal capitals of Europe, and in addition received 
nearly thirty foreign distinctions. He was knighted in 1868, 
and died in Paris in 1875. Although he appears to have writ- 
ten but little for publication for the use of general readers, 



462 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

the scientific journals and transactions contain many durable 
records of his discoveries, applications, and inventions which 
have greatly furthered the progress of science and civilization 
throughout the world. 






SAMUEL F. B. MORSE. 

[Boun 1791. Died 1872.] 

O AMUEL F. B. MORSE, the inventor of the " Morse " sys- 
K -' tem of telegraphy, was born at Charlestown, Massachusetts, 
April 27, 1 791. He was the son of the Rev. Jedediah Morse, 
who is sometimes called the father of American geography, he 
having prepared and published the earliest text-books upon 
that subject that issued from the press of this country. 

When young Morse was twelve years old, he was sent to Yale, 
where he exhibited a much greater aptitude for drawing and 
painting than he did for academic studies ; so much so that 
Dr. Dwight, the president of the college, once severely repri- 
manded him for his want of application, and, thinking to reclaim 
the dull student by " heroic treatment," nearly broke the boy's 
heart by telling him that he was " no painter." Morse, how- 
ever, thought otherwise, and upon leaving college he determined 
to adopt painting as his profession. To this end he went to Eu- 
rope under the care of Allston, and in London he became the 
pupil of West. After studying four years under these masters, 
Morse returned to America, opened a studio, and began work 
as a portrait-painter. He pursued this calling with limited suc- 
cess until 1832, when, as he was returning home from England 
in the ship " Sully," the novel idea of transmitting intelligible 
signals by means of electricity became a topic of discussion 
among the passengers. Professor Jackson, who was on board, 
has declared that he first gave Morse the idea of its practi- 
cability. The subject immediately took such firm hold upon 
Morse's mind that thenceforth how to solve the problem became 







SAMUEL F. B. MORSE. 



SAMUEL F. B. MORSE. 463 

the absorbing idea of his life. He brooded over it in secret ; he 
attended scientific lectures ; he patiently experimented with this 
new and mys'.erious agent until a method for practically adapting 
it to the end he had in view was found. There is no claim that 
Morse possessed peculiar knowledge in this branch of science. 
Such is not the fact. But it is certain that from the moment it 
first presented itself to his mind he grasped its great possibili- 
ties with peculiar intelligence ; and he pursued his idea not only 
with such earnest conviction of its entire feasibility, but with 
such determination to succeed, as very shortly took the prob- 
lem of electrical telegraphy out of the experimental stage in 
which he had found it, and placed it upon that of recognized 
practical utility. While it would be unjust to others to claim for 
him all the merit of this truly wonderful discovery, 1 Morse's in- 
vention is so distinctly original, so simple, and so thoroughly 
practical in its workings as to have advanced it at once to the 
head of all the methods that his age has produced, and it is to- 
day in more general use than any other. 

The galvanic battery, the passing of an electrical current 
generated by it through a wire connecting the positive and neg- 
ative poles of two such batteries, and the action of the electro- 
magnet were things that were then occupying the attention of 
the learned scientists of Europe. The discoveries of Volta and 
Arago were being steadily advanced by Faraday, Steinheil, and 
Wheatstone ; but to Morse belongs the credit of having perfected 
a method of recording upon paper at one end of a wire the 
characters formed by the operator at the other, by simply 
opening and closing the telegraphic circuit. Its merits were 
so evident that Professor Steinheil with rare disinterestedness 
wrote to his American rival that he had decided to abandon his 
own system in favor of that of his distinguished confrere. Noth- 
ing, in fact, could be simpler than Morse's combination of the 
electro-magnet with his receiving instrument and manipulating 
key. 

But before this admirable result was attained by Morse, there 
ensued a long period of toil, anxiety, and suspense, inseparable 
1 Refer to the article on Wheatstone. 



464 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

from the history of every great invention. It took Morse five 
years to get his own into shape so as to be able to file a caveat 
in the Patent Office at Washington, and three more to perfect 
his idea. It was not until 1844 that Morse obtained from Con- 
gress a grant of $30,000, which was the sum he asked for to 
enable him to construct between Baltimore and Washington the 
first telegraph line in America. While his bill was pending the 
inventor passed through all the alternations from hope to de- 
spair; for after its passage by the Lower House it was so bur- 
ied underneath those bills having priority in the Senate that 
to reach it in the few remaining days of the session seemed an 
impossibility. On the last day Morse left the Senate Chamber 
at a late hour in despair. After paying his hotel bill he had 
only enough money left in his pocket to take him back to New 
York. He had staked everything upon the issue, and he had 
lost. It was now become an imperious necessity to abandon his 
darling project for some occupation that would at least give him 
a livelihood. At fifty-three such a prospect comes home to a 
man with overwhelming force. In this frame of mind, but with 
that unshaken courage characteristic of him, Morse prepared to 
leave Washington on the following day. In the morning, while 
the inventor was getting ready to start, he was notified that a 
young lady wished to speak to him. This early caller proved 
to be Miss Annie G. Ellsworth, the daughter of the Commis- 
sioner of Patents. She seemed to be in great spirits. 

"I bring you my father's congratulations and my own," she 
said. 

" For what? " the surprised inventor asked. 

"Why, upon your great triumph, to be sure; the passage of 
your bill." 

" Ah ! thanks, my dear child ; but you are then ignorant that 
I only left the Senate at a late hour after seeing that the bill 
could not pass?" 

" Oh, sir, is it possible that I am the one to first bring you 
this great news? The bill did pass ; my father was there. " 

" Annie ! " cried Morse, " the very first message which passes 
over mv wires shall be vours." 



SAMUEL F. B. MORSE. 465 

This promise was faithfully kept. 1 By the month of May 
the wires had been hung on poles, and the two cities were con- 
nected. When all was ready Miss Ellsworth announced to the 
world the greatest achievement of the age in these four noble 
words, — " What hath God wrought ! " 

It is unnecessary here to record the progress of telegraphic 
communication throughout the globe. From the day that pro- 
claimed his telegraph to be an accomplished fact, honors were 
showered upon .its illustrious inventor from every quarter ; and 
long before his death, which occurred in 1872, Professor 
Morse was permitted, with rare good fortune, to realize how 
great were the benefits that had accrued not only to science but 
to the human race through his instrumentality. To-day any 
interruption of telegraphic communication is an interruption of 
the business of the world, which would be followed by results 
disastrous, not alone to commerce, with all its vast and varied 
interests, but also to the every-day wants of the people at large. 
As no other means of communication has ever performed such 
extensive or important functions as the electric telegraph is now 
doing, we cannot help regarding its discovery as the greatest 
step towards the universal brotherhood of nations that mankind 
has yet taken. Most truly has it annihilated space, and thus 
joined the hands of all peoples on the face of the globe in one 
grand, magnetic impulse towards a higher civilization, which 
through instant interchange of deeds or ideas is silently working 
out its promised fulfilment. Before this discovery Archimedes' 
boast fades into insignificance. With a spark Professor Morse 
has not only moved the world, he has illuminated it without 
other fulcrum than his own superior intelligence. This, in point 
of fact, is the point cCappui of the nineteenth century. 

1 This valuable souvenir, which occupies about as much space as the palm of the 
hand, is now in the possession of Mr. Roswell Smith, of New York, Mrs. Roswell 
Smith being the Miss Annie Ellsworth referred to. An autograph from Professor 
Morse reads : " This sentence was written from Washington by me, at the Baltimore 
terminus, at 8 h. 45 min. A. M., on Friday, May 24, 1844, being the first ever transmit- 
ted from Washington to Baltimore by telegraph, and was indited by my much loved 
friend, Miss Annie G. Ellsworth. Sam'l F. B. Morse, Superintendent of Elec. 
Mag. Telegraphs." 

3° 



466 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



THOMAS ALVA EDISON. 

[Born at Milan, Ohio, 1847.] 

IV /TEN of genius are found in every age ; but genius allied 
-L»-l. w ith fertility of resource, with breadth of view, with 
indomitable energy and persistency, is a gift too rare for Na- 
ture to bestow oftener than once in a century. When such a 
man appears, he rises head and shoulders above his contem- 
poraries ; and that is where Thomas A. Edison, by common 
consent, stands to-day. 

His is the old, the oft-repeated story of a poor boy, of 
humble parentage, of scarcely any education, and with little 
or no equipment, discipline, or training, outstripping the pro- 
foundest thinkers of his time, and upon their own chosen 
ground. Those who have called Edison a mere man of ex- 
pedients have failed to correctly gauge the calibre of his mind. 
Edison owes nothing to the schools, to society, or to patronage. 
He is a natural force, and as such has at last made his own 
way to universal recognition. Our Fultons, our Whitneys, our 
Morses, and our Edisons, all go to show that great inventors, 
like great poets, are born and not made, and that the New 
World is taking the lead in the grand march of progress. • 

Young Edison began life as a train-boy on a railway in the 
West. If we look at the date at the head of this article, we 
shall see that the inventor of the duplex and quadruplex sys- 
tems of telegraphy, of the phonograph, and of the most prac- 
ticable and satisfactory method of electric lighting thus far 
discovered, is not yet forty years old. Even as a boy, his 
brain was busy with problems thafclearly prove an intellectual 
precocity, going far beyond his years. For instance, while 




THOMAS ALVA EDISON. 



THOMAS ALVA EDISON. 467 

he was selling newspapers, as a mere lad in his teens, it oc- 
curred to him that if he were to telegraph short summaries 
of news to be bulletined at stations in advance of the arrival 
of his train, it would be a good scheme ; upon this idea he 
acted. When the enterprising newsboy stepped out upon 
the platform, he was at once surrounded by eager customers, 
whose appetite for news had been whetted by reading his bul- 
letins. Young Edison then conceived the idea of publishing 
a paper of his own, which was actually printed on board the 
train, though in the rudest manner; the impressions being 
taken from the types by rubbing the paper with the hand. 
It was here, too, that the boy first set his audacious foot 
within the domain of science. Unconsciously his true vocation 
was dawning upon his eager mind. He haunted the railway 
shops ; he studied the mechanism of locomotives ; and in mo- 
ments of leisure he became an omnivorous reader of such books 
as Newton's " Principia " and Dr. Ure's Dictionary. The won- 
ders of chemistry thus opened to him seized upon his youthful 
imagination so strongly that we presently find the lad buying 
up various chemicals, with which he set up his first laboratory 
in the same car that had served him for a printing-office. 
But alas for his hopes in this direction ! In an unlucky hour 
his phosphorus one day set the car on fire. The flames threat- 
ened destruction to the train and all on board. The young 
chemist, along with his types and bottles, was summarily ejected 
from the train for having put the lives and property of the 
passengers in peril by his carelessness. 

By this time Edison had mastered the rudiments of practical 
telegraphy, and he had resolved to be an operator as soon as 
he could make his way into an office. We may see, even at this 
stage, how quick was his invention. On one occasion when the 
submarine cable between Port Huron and Sarnia had been 
broken by the ice, and telegraphic communication interrupted, 
Edison jumped upon a locomotive that happened to be standing 
by the river with steam up, and, pulling open the valve, pro- 
ceeded to give with the whistle sounds corresponding to the 
Morse telegraphic signals. He repeated these signals, which of 



468 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

course drew everybody's attention by their noise, until the tele- 
graph operator upon the other side of the river had caught the 
idea and had answered in the same manner, thus establishing 
the communication. 

For the next few years Edison developed a good deal of the 
roving propensity of his class; but there were some things 
about him that very soon established his decided superiority 
among his fellows. In the first place he exerted himself to 
the utmost to become a skilled operator, working early and 
late, visiting the office after the regular hours for work were 
ended, and studying how to make his services most useful to 
his employers. But what speedily raised Edison above the 
rank of a mere master of routine work was the grand deter- 
mination he displayed to fathom the mysteries of electrical 
science. Herein he showed the powers and attributes of a 
superior mind. To him the wondrous exploits that he daily 
performed on a slender wire had opened a new world filled 
with the most fascinating possibilities and promise. He be- 
came what some of his critics have asserted that he is not, — 
a scientific thinker; for there is not one of his discoveries 
that does not rest upon some principle the elements of which 
Edison has thought out for himself, or that has not in some 
way advanced the general cause of science by building upon 
what was already known. In a very short time he had de- 
vised the automatic repeating-instrument, by which a series 
of telegraph lines may be joined (practically speaking), and 
worked without the help of an operator at the connecting 
points. The " repeater " then in general use required the 
constant oversight of an operator to reverse and to keep 
it adjusted. To Edison this useful, labor-saving invention 
was only a step in the direction he was pursuing. He had 
become possessed with the idea that double transmission on 
a single wire was possible; and his experiments, his search 
among books, and his preoccupation soon gained for him the 
title of "luny" among his companions, besides discrediting 
him with his employers. A few years more passed, and the 
electricians as well as the uninstructed public were astounded 



THOMAS ALVA EDISON. 469 

by the announcement that a mechanism had been perfected 
by an unknown telegraph-operator, by which messages were 
being sent over the same wire in opposite directions at the 
same time. It was held to be an impossibility, an absurdity, 
in plain violation of all the well-known laws governing the 
action of electrical currents. But there was no getting over 
actual demonstration ; for the " duplex basis " was soon doub- 
ling the capacity of overworked wires. 

But we are advancing a little the story of Thomas A. Edison's 
development from a boy who dreamed dreams and saw visions 
into the man who has seen most of those visions realized to 
the fullest extent. 

The year 1870 proved to be the turning-point in Edison's ca- 
reer. In that year he arrived in New York. His dabbling with 
inventions had lost him one situation after another. " Com- 
petent, but unreliable " was the verdict of one manager after 
another, who had tried him. Unsuccessful in procuring work, 
it is said that he wandered through the streets of the great 
city penniless, friendless, and hungry. One day he happened 
to step into the. office of the Laws Gold- Reporting Telegraph 
Company. The office instrument was out of order, and the 
inventor in despair. Edison looked at it; he thought that he 
could make it work, and was permitted to make the trial. In 
a few moments he had the complicated little instrument ticking 
as usual, and was immediately employed. Edison's discourage- 
ments were now at an end. He at once began the work of 
improving the Indicator, and had very soon produced his 
Gold Printer. His inventions pertaining to this branch of te- 
legraphy have largely superseded the old apparatus employed, 
and they have resulted in greatly extending the system 
throughout the commercial centres of the country. Means 
were now at Edison's command. Business flowed in upon 
him in a steady stream. Establishing himself in Newark, New 
Jersey, Edison became the head of a manufactory for turning 
out his improved instruments. With three hundred workmen, 
with full scope for his ingenuity, his inventions multiplied so 
rapidly that he was described by the Commissioner of Patents 



470 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

as " the young man who kept the path to the Patent Office 
hot with his footsteps." Most of these were for improvements 
in electrical apparatus or methods of transmission; and in- 
deed it must be admitted that Edison's most solid successes 
are his telegraphic inventions. Perceiving his value at last, the 
same company from whose service Edison had been repeatedly 
turned away on account of his so-called vagaries was now 
glad to retain him at a munificent salary in consideration of 
securing for itself the first chance to use his discoveries. When 
we state that Edison's patents relating to telegraphy alone al- 
ready number not far from a hundred in all, the value of this 
connection, as well as the point of the remark that " Edison kept 
the path to the Patent Office hot with his footsteps," will fully 
appear. 

It was during the summer of 1874, at Newark, while experi- 
menting with the view of introducing certain modifications into 
the duplex apparatus, that Edison discovered the basis of the 
quadruplex system of telegraphy. " The distinguishing feature 
of this method consists in combining at two terminal stations 
two distinct and unlike modes of single transmission in such a 
manner that they may be carried on independently on the same 
wire and at the same time without interfering with each other." 
One of these methods is known as the double-current system, 
and the other as the single-current or open-circuit system. By 
making use of these two methods, combined with the duplex 
principle of simultaneous transmission in opposite directions, 
four sets of instruments may be operated at the same time on 
the same wire. 

In 1873 Edison was married to Miss Mary Stillwell, of 
Newark. An incident is related of the honeymoon as tending 
to show how entire was the absorption of the inventor in his 
work. One of his friends upon returning home at a late hour 
saw a light in Edison's laboratory, and climbed the stairs to find 
the inventor plunged in one of his characteristic stupors over 
some problem that happened to be taxing his mind to the 
utmost. Seeing his visitor standing before him, Edison roused 
himself and wearily asked the hour. " Midnight," was the 



THOMAS ALVA EDISON. 471 

reply. " Then," said the inventor, " I must go home. I was 
married to-day." 

The Phonograph, or " Talking-Machine," was discovered, ac- 
cording to Mr. Edison, by the merest accident. For a time it 
astounded the ignorant and the learned alike ; for even when 
the simple nature of the mechanism that could repeat all pos- 
sible modulations of the human voice with absolute fidelity was 
clearly understood, there seemed at first sight no limit to the 
possible uses for which such an instrument might be employed. 
A world of delighted speculation was quickly opened ; but thus 
far the Phonograph has developed less practical value than was 
hoped for it. 

Said Mr. Edison to some friends at Menlo Park: " I was sing- 
ing to the mouthpiece of a telephone, when the vibrations of 
the wire sent the fine steel point into my finger. That set me 
to thinking. If I could record the action of the point, and then 
send the point over the same surface afterwards, I saw no rea- 
son why the thing would not talk. I tried the experiment, first 
on a strip of telegraph paper, and found that the point made 
an alphabet. I shouted the word ' Halloo ! Halloo ! ' into the 
mouthpiece, ran the paper back over the steel point, and heard 
a faint ' Halloo ! Halloo ! ' in return. That 's the whole story. 
The discovery came through the pricking of a finger." 

When Edison's phonograph was first exhibited to the Acad- 
emy of Sciences a murmur of admiration was heard from all 
parts of the hall, — a murmur succeeded by repeated applause. 
Yet some members of a sceptical turn started a report that the 
Academy had been mystified by a clever ventriloquist. Re- 
peated experiments were required to convince these incredulous 
persons that no chicanery was used, and that after a few trials 
they could manipulate the phonograph as easily as Mr. Edison's 
agent had done in their presence. 

Edison's own discoveries, or his application of new principles 
to the discoveries of others, have come so thick and fast that we 
must be content with a simple reference to the more important 
ones. His Carbon Telephone was one of the earliest and most 
interesting improvements made upon the telephone of Professor 



472 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Bell, who is the subject of an article in this volume. Edison 
began his experiments in the early part of 1876 with the Reiss 
Transmitter; and after continuing them a long time with no great 
success, he at length found that a simple carbon disk, made 
of lampblack, was the key to the problem which he had been so 
long endeavoring to work out. The carbon button, or disk, was 
the essential factor. For this telephone Edison received the 
sum of $100,000. It at once greatly enlarged the sphere of 
telephone communication by making it available for conversing 
at greater distances than had been practicable with the tele- 
phones in common use. Upon being put into the telegraphic 
circuit between New York and Philadelphia it was found to 
work well, while the other telephones would not transmit intel- 
ligible sounds. The following year (1879), Edison's apparatus 
was tested on a wire 210 miles long, between Chicago and Indi- 
anapolis, and was then found to work with the best results. 

The Megaphone is a combined speaking and ear trumpet, by 
which persons may converse in the open air when several miles 
apart. It was suggested by the phonograph. There are two 
great ear-trumpets and one speaking-trumpet mounted together 
upon a tripod. Mr. Edison has applied the same principle to a 
smaller instrument to be used by deaf persons, who may thus 
hear a whisper distinctly in the largest public hall, and so prac- 
tically overcome a defective hearing. One objection that we 
have heard urged against the use of the megaphone out of 
doors is that it collects all intervening sounds coming within its 
range, even the twitter of birds and the cropping of the grass 
by animals being confusedly heard. 

We now come to that most beneficent of modern discoveries, 
the electric light, — the only artificial light whose brilliancy ap- 
proaches that of the sun. It is now coming into common use, 
both for out of-door and in-door illuminations, — streets, railways, 
manufactories, theatres, steamships, and lighthouses being al- 
ready included in its practical working, — and the public are now 
awaiting with impatience its promised introduction into private 
houses in the same manner and as a substitute for gas. When 
this shall be fully accomplished, as much will be added to the 



THOMAS ALVA EDISON. 473 

comfort and safety of every home as has already been secured 
to simple pedestrians and travellers at home or abroad. It is 
to the elucidation of this particular problem that Edison has 
latterly directed all his resources. 

Although the general principle of the electric light is more or 
less clearly understood, to the multitude it remains as great a 
phenomenon as ever. Stated as briefly as we can do it, this 
principle is that the passage and play of an electric current across 
a break by means of electrodes — like carbon, for instance — 
brings those substances to a white heat, or glow, which is main- 
tained so long as the conducting substance is not consumed. 
Every one has seen the effect of a jeweller's blow-pipe upon a 
piece of charcoal. So, if two carbon pencils are attached each 
to one end of the conducting wire, and are then brought nearly 
into contact, the electric current or spark will freely pass from 
one to the other, and combustion of the carbon sticks takes 
place. This produces that dazzling white light used for illu- 
minating streets or other open areas, and is called the " voltaic 
arc," or, briefly, the " arc light," from the nature of the flame. 
The light is kept steady by clockwork, which moves the car- 
bon pencils nearer as they are consumed. To produce a light 
of the desired intensity the electric current must be of corre- 
sponding energy, or what would be sufficient to kill a man or a 
horse as quickly as a stroke of lightning if passed through the 
body of either ; so that, unless they are buried underground, 
the electric- lighting wires constitute an element of danger. Sir 
Humphry Davy was the discoverer of the voltaic arc. 

The second method of electric lighting, and the one to which 
Edison is almost exclusively devoting himself at this time, is 
that usually known as the incandescent light. This is bringing 
carbon to incandescence within a vacuum by the same means 
we have just described. But the results are far different; for 
the flame is now enclosed within a glass bulb instead of being 
exposed like a gas jet, and is therefore safer for interior illumina- 
tion. Not being in contact with the air, the light is also steadier 
and more constant, and the waste of the carbon is checked. When 



474 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

light; but at the Paris Exhibition of 1 88 1 Edison's improve- 
ments in the whole system of electric lighting by incandescence 
were pronounced by experts far the best of any then submitted. 
In speaking of the various exhibits of electrical lamps, Mr. 
Preece, one of these experts, says that the lamp which possessed 
the greatest novelty and was decidedly the most efficient was 
that of Mr. Edison. The distinctive character of the Edison 
lamp is the remarkable uniformity of its texture and light-giving 
power. It consists of a fine filament of carbon, not much larger 
than a horse-hair, inserted as a part of the electric circuit inside 
a glass globe which has been exhausted of air to the utmost 
attainable limit. A fine uniform quality of Japanese bamboo 
has been selected as giving the best filament for carbonizing. 
This filament is warranted to burn for six hundred hours. The 
whole lamp can be unscrewed from its socket and replaced by 
another lamp in a moment. When it" is thus detached the elec- 
tric circuit is of course broken and the light extinguished. 
When replaced, the circuit is perfected and the lamp instantly 
relights itself. There are no cocks to be turned on or off, and 
there is no gas to escape. Nothing could be simpler in its 
working or more beautiful in its results. 

" What constitutes Mr. Edison's system," remarks the Comte 
du Moncel, " is not alone his lamps ; it is the totality of the ar- 
rangements referring to them, which have attained such a degree 
of simplicity that henceforth nothing remains to be desired in 
practice. Generating machines, distribution of circuits, instal- 
lation, indicating and regulating apparatus, meters for measur- 
ing the amount of current employed, are all combined for 
immediate application." In fact, every detail has been thor- 
oughly worked out by Mr. Edison, whose lamps to the number 
of 75,000 are already in use throughout the world, some 18,000 
being found in the stores, mills, and workshops of New Eng- 
land. In New York the Edison system has already been applied 
to the lighting of a district a mile square, in which the supply 
of dwelling-houses is included; and in Brockton, Massachusetts, 
the same system is now in course of installation for lighting the 
numerous factories of that thriving city, the supply in each case 




ELIAS HOWE. 



ELIAS HOWE. 475 

being generated at a central station and distributed throughout 
the district to be lighted by subterranean wires. 

Mr. Edison's workshop at Menlo Park, New Jersey, is a hive 
of industry, in which the inventor is the animating genius. His 
first announcement of the perfection of his incandescent light 
was received in Europe with a general cry of derision. In the 
" Encyclopaedia Britannica " of so late an issue as 1878, Edison is 
not even mentioned. His extraordinary talents have at length 
commanded universal recognition, and to-day he stands without 
a peer among the discoverers and inventors of his age. 



ELIAS HOWE. 

[Born 1819. Died 1S67] 

'THHE miseries that have been borne by those who, had they 
■*■ lived in our own time, need not have been ground by want, 
is one of the saddest reflections that can come to us. We can- 
not explain why these things are. It is this reflection that gives 
point to Hood's famous "Song of the Shirt;" for since the 
sewing-machine is now found in every household, however 
humble, no woman starves over her needle. Thanks to that 
wondrous piece of mechanism, the needlewoman of to-day is no 
longer one of a class whose deplorable condition calls for special 
effort on the part of the philanthropist. To her, indeed, more 
than to any other, has the sewing-machine proved a priceless 
blessing; for not only has it prodigiously extended the scope of 
woman's labor, but it has raised that labor from its former con- 
dition of hopeless and ill-paid drudgery to one easily performed* 
and fairly remunerative. We think there will be no dissent 
from the statement that the sewing-machine has done more to 
broaden the working-woman's opportunities than any invention 
of the century. 

We are not now to state by an array of facts and figures how 
much the invention of Elias Howe may have added to the pro- 



476 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

ductive industry of the world ; but we may say, briefly, that the 
gross sum contributed by the various departments of skilled 
labor in which sewing-machines are employed has reached an 
enormous sum total. Not only has the invention superseded 
many of the older methods employed in the manufactures of 
cotton, silk, or woollen fabrics, but even such refractory sub- 
stances as leather are now easily made up into the thousand 
and one articles for which those substances are adapted. 

The first attempts to make a machine that would take the 
place of sewing by hand go as far back as 1755, and they origi- 
nated in Europe. Quite a number of persons are credited with 
having got hold of the crude idea that sewing by machinery was 
practicable, and one after another attempted the devising of a 
mechanical contrivance for the purpose. Each may be said to 
have contributed something to the general result, although no 
one had succeeded in attaining it. Freisenthal's, Alsop's, Dun- 
can's, Heilman's, Saint's, and Thimonier's experiments were 
each and all approximations toward the desired end. But 
neither of these persons had yet solved the problem, although 
Thimonier had so nearly succeeded that a mob of working- 
men destroyed his machine for fear it would take the bread out 
of their mouths. Walter Hunt is the first American who 
brought the sewing-machine problem nearly to the point of 
practical demonstration. This was in 1834. But he stopped here, 
either baffled or discouraged by the obstacles he found even 
his ingenuity unable to overcome ; and his machine, which em- 
bodied what is known as the " lock-stitch," rusted in a garret 
until a man of clearer head and greater persistency had 
worked out his own idea independently of any other, and so 
gained the prize which Hunt was so near grasping. This man 
•was Elias Howe ; and it is a pleasure to record that his claim 
rests upon no doubtful or insecure foundation, for it has been 
assailed by every possible form of judicial inquiry and has come 
out of the ordeal triumphantly. 

Elias Howe was, in fact, a genius of the first rank, — one of 
the kind that is seldom appreciated by its own age, to whom 
a man's personality is everything. No inventor ever endured 



ELIAS HOWE. 477 

greater vicissitudes, or came out of them more triumphantly, 
than did Elias Howe. The son of a farmer who lived in Spen- 
cer, Massachusetts, he had found his way first to a workman's 
bench in a Lowell machine-shop, and then, in his twentieth 
year, to a mathematical-instrument maker's in Boston. He had 
married young, and had a family dependent upon him for their 
daily bread. 

One day Howe overheard a conversation that was going on 
between the master of the shop and a customer over a knitting- 
machine that the latter had brought in for examination and to 
see if its defects could be remedied. After inspecting the crude 
and incomplete device before him awhile, the master broke 
out with, — 

"What are you bothering with a knitting-machine for? Why 
don't you make a sewing-machine ? " 

" I wish I could," said the other; " but it can't be done." 
" Oh, yes, it can ; I can make a sewing-machine myself." 
" Well, then," said the customer, " you do it, Davis, and I '11 
insure you an independent fortune." 

The idea thus dropped, probably more in bravado than in 
sober earnest, nevertheless took firm hold on the young jour- 
neyman's mind ; but it was several years yet before he seriously 
applied himself to working it out to the exclusion of everything 
else. It was, in fact, ten years after Hunt had constructed his 
machine before Howe took hold of the matter at all ; but we do 
not find that he knew anything whatever of that most ingenious 
man's attempts. In December, 1845, with the help of a friend 
who advanced the means necessary for his own and his family's 
support, Howe shut himself up in a garret in this friend's house, 
and for six months worked with dogged perseverance over the 
slowly developing mechanism that finally embodied his idea of 
a sewing-machine. It was finished, patented, and exhibited in 
successful operation to admiring crowds. But it found no pur- 
chasers. No one would touch it. Howe's partner became 
disheartened, and abandoned the enterprise in despair; for now 
that the sewing-machine was an accomplished fact it seemed 
even more difficult to convince the public of its practical utility 



478 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

than it once had to create the machine itself. This first sewing- 
instrument applied the principle of the curved needle, with the 
eye near the point that perforated the cloth, and of a shuttle 
that by moving rapidly to and fro carried a second thread 
through the loop formed by the needle, and in this way made 
the seam commonly known as the " lock-stitch." 

Convinced that nothing was to be done in the United States, 
Howe took his machine to England, where he was glad to sell it, 
together with the patent right for Great Britain, for a paltry 
^250, in order that he might be able to pay off some of his 
debts. The shrewd purchaser, who was a manufacturer named 
Thomas, soon secured a patent both in England and in France, 
thus obtaining an absolute control of the invention in those coun- 
tries, subject only to the payment of a small royalty to the in- 
ventor. The money Howe had thus procured was soon gone, 
and he then had to seek employment as a means of livelihood. 

Again Howe became a workman dependent upon the labor 
of his hands ; but even this resource so often failed him that he 
was forced to borrow small sums — on one occasion a shilling — 
to keep himself from starving. Howe finally got a passage 
home to the United States, where he arrived destitute of every- 
thing but the pluck that had never deserted him even when he 
did not know where his next meal was coming from. To his 
surprise, and not altogether to his delight, he found that in his 
absence the sewing-machine had steadily grown in the appre- 
ciation of the public, and was at that time employing all the re- 
sources of other skilful inventors, who aimed to bring it to a 
still higher state of perfection. From the piece of ingenious 
mechanism of problematical worth at which it had % first been 
estimated, the sewing-machine had now advanced to a position 
of admitted utility; and this fact, in a country where manual 
labor of every kind was so dear as it was in the United States, 
assured its success beyond a doubt. This too stimulated the 
exertions of others besides Howe to obtain control of the manu- 
facture and sale in the United States. Howe found his rights 
endangered. In Mr. I. M. Singer, Howe encountered his most 
energetic and formidable competitor. The courts were appealed 



ELIAS HOWE. 479 

to. They decided that Elias Howe's claim to be the original 
inventor of the sewing-machine was good and valid ; and from 
that day the struggling mechanic, the man of brain and pluck, 
began to receive the reward of genius. 

It is not our purpose to write the history of sewing-machines 
further than to record these incidents in the life of Elias Howe. 
In a few years he rose from poverty and obscurity to affluence 
and the possession of a great name ; but even the greatness of 
the reward does not seem too much in view of the benefits se- 
cured to mankind, or the obstacles that had to be overcome 
before these results could be attained. It is characteristic of 
nearly all really great inventions that they have occupied the 
minds of several different persons at the same period of time, 
but it is seldom indeed that the rights of a claimant have been 
so universally conceded as they have in the case of Elias Howe 
and his wonderful little mechanism. Nor is there a particle of 
evidence going to prove that Howe pursued any other plans 
than such as were the coinage of his own fertile and inventive 
brain. 

During the great civil war between the North and the South, 
Mr. Howe's zealous patriotism led him to enlist as a private sol- 
dier in the Seventeenth Connecticut Volunteers. To this example 
of what a citizen in any station owes to his country whenever that 
country may demand the sacrifice from him, Howe also added 
the voluntary use of his means for the payment of the regi- 
ment. He served until failing health compelled his retirement 
from the ranks ; but this simple incident has conferred upon the 
eminent inventor and millionnaire an honor greater in its way 
than any he may have derived from the ribbon of the Legion of 
Honor, or from those other decorations that marked the appre- 
ciation of foreign governments for his achievements in the 
domain of mechanical science. 



480 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



CYRUS HALL McCORMICK. 

[Born 1S09. Died 1884.] 

A N English journal frankly gives credit to American genius 
-£*- for at least fifteen inventions and discoveries which, it 
says, have been adopted all over the world. These triumphs 
of American genius are thus enumerated : First, the cotton gin ; 
second, the steamboat ; third, the grass-mower and grain-reaper ; 
fourth, the rotary printing-press; fifth, the planing-machine; 
sixth, the hot-air or caloric engine ; seventh, the sewing-ma- 
chine; eighth, the india-rubber industry; ninth, the machine 
for manufacturing horse-shoes; tenth, the sand-blast for carv- 
ing; eleventh, the gauge-lathe; twelfth, the grain-elevator; 
thirteenth, artificial ice manufacture on a large scale ; four- 
teenth, the electro-magnet and its practical application ; fif- 
teenth, the composing-machine for printers. To these should 
be added the improvements in practical telegraphy, the tele- 
phone, and the electric light; and even then the catalogue will 
be far from complete. The most suggestive thought, as related 
to the world's progress, is that a single century covers the whole 
list just enumerated, while a majority of the inventions have 
seen the light within half a century. Americans may well point 
with pride to a record at once so remarkable and so honorable 
in a country which has only just begun to measure its own 
achievements with those that the Old World is producing as 
the fruit of centuries of preparation of the ground. All eyes 
are now turned to the future with the conviction that it will 
show no less beneficent results to human progress than the 
present has done. In the meantime miracles are being per- 
formed under our eyes every day, we might almost say every 
hour. 




CYRUS HALL McCORMICK. 



CYRUS HALL McCORMICK. 481 

Different inventions possess, of course, a relative importance. 
Those which add to the material wealth of nations are unques- 
tionably greater than those that contribute exclusively to the 
comfort or convenience of mankind. By common consent that 
man is a benefactor who has made two blades of grass grow 
where only one grew before. We need not pursue so sugges- 
tive a simile. Of the class of inventors who create national 
wealth we have had in the United States two notable examples, 
namely, Eli Whitney and Cyrus Hall McCormick. What Whit- 
ney's gin did for the South has already been shown by the most 
irrefragable testimony. What McCormick's reaper was doing 
for the North so long ago as 1859 was estimated by the Hon. 
Reverdy Johnson to equal " an annual income to the whole coun- 
try of fifty-five millions of dollars at least, which must increase 
through all time;" and William H. Seward said that McCor- 
mick's invention had advanced the line of civilization westward 
thirty miles each year. In this connection it is interesting to 
note that while the North gave to the South the cotton-gin, the 
South has given to the North the reaping-machine ; but to in- 
ventions of such universal utility as these are, neither section 
may lay exclusive claim, — for both the gin and the reaper have 
become the common property of nations, and each has gone 
into and is doing its appointed work in the remote parts of the 
earth in the interest of the great common weal. 

We find that the idea of harvesting grain in some more ex- 
peditious way than by hand labor goes back to a remote period ; 
and we are also assured that certain crude efforts to construct 
machines for the purpose have tangible record in the patent- 
offices of European countries as well as in our own. Many 
may have been engaged for a long time in unsuccessful or only 
partially successful attempts to bring their schemes to perfec- 
tion, who have come before the public to contend for the merit 
justly due to the more fortunate or more skilful inventor. But 
such failures become only more conspicuous by a comparison 
with achieved success. The world extends its sympathy to 
baffled or half-successful inventors, but it recognizes and re- 
serves its rewards only for accomplished facts. To demand 



482 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

recognition for a failure is to belittle the efforts of genius by 
claiming distinction for mediocrity. The reaping-machine is no 
exception to the history of every really great invention. It has 
been claimed for the unknown, the unpractical, and, above all, 
for the unsuccessful competitor whose work, be it said, has been 
brought to notice chiefly through the efforts of a mind greater 
than his own. 

Cyrus Hall McCormick, the inventor of the reaping-machine, 
and the subject of this brief sketch, was born at Walnut Grove, 
Rockbridge County, Virginia, February 15, 1809, and was there- 
fore, at the time of his death, in his seventy-sixth year. His 
parents were of Scotch-Irish descent, a race noted for energy, 
sturdy independence, and thrift. Young McCormick's inventive- 
genius developed early in life. This trait of character he seems 
to have inherited from his father, Robert McCormick, who, 
though a planter, owned several saw and grist mills, and kept a 
carpenter's and blacksmith's shop, in which were made and 
repaired nearly all the tools and machinery required on the 
farm. He was the inventor and patentee of several valuable 
machines for threshing, hydraulic hemp-breaking, etc. In 18 16 
he had devised a reaping-machine with which he experimented 
in the harvest of that year. Disappointed in his experiments, 
he laid it aside, and did not resume work on it again for 
fifteen years. He then added some improvements ; but on 
testing it again in a field of grain, he became so thoroughly 
convinced that its principle was wrong that he abandoned it as 
a Utopian idea, just as all his predecessors in reaper-inventing 
had done before him. 

During these years young Cyrus was improving his time in be- 
coming an adept in handling tools and in the study of machinery, 
while assisting his father to work out his inventions. At fifteen 
the lad had turned his own mechanical training to such purpose 
as to contrive a grain cradle, and, five years later, a hillside plough, 
which was the first self-sharpening plough ever invented. 

Very much against his father's judgment, young McCormick 
next turned his attention to the abandoned reaper. Avoiding 
the errors that had proved fatal to all previous attempts, he de- 



CYRUS HALL McCORMICK. 483 

vised a machine wholly unlike anything that had been pro- 
jected, or, so far as he knew, even thought of. As one by one 
the problems involved presented themselves to his mind, his 
ingenuity provided for them. First came the cutting-sickle, 
with its fast alternating and slow advancing motions ; second, 
the receiving platform upon which the cut grain should fall and 
be cared for ; third, the reel to gather and hold up the grain 
in a body. These three salient points being decided upon, it 
remained to bring them into harmony as co-operating parts of 
one machine ; and here the inventor's training in his father's 
workshops became of great use to him. Perseverance finally 
enabled him to work out the various mechanical combinations 
that he had outlined in his mind, and it was then a compara- 
tively easy matter to mount the machine on wheels, which by 
intermediate gearing gave the required motion to the sickle 
and reel. These successive steps were taken little by little, 
but they were taken surely and upon sound judgment. In 
1 83 1 McCormick had the great satisfaction of completing with 
his own hands and by his own unaided ingenuity, and of suc- 
cessfully testing in the harvest field, the first practical reaping- 
machine that the world ever saw. It is evident, however, that 
McCormick at twenty-two had formed no adequate idea of the 
value of his invention ; for we now find him laying it aside in 
order to go into the iron-smelting business, which he considered 
as opening a broader and more lucrative field to his ambition. 
The panic of 1837, however, brought financial ruin to the new 
enterprise. McCormick's business partner secured his own pri- 
vate property, leaving the smelting business and the junior part- 
ner to their fate. It is most honorable to McCormick that in a 
situation at once so trying and so disheartening as this proved 
to be, he with rare integrity and determination set to work pay- 
ing off his own debts, though it was at the sacrifice of every- 
thing he possessed. 

But in the light of present knowledge we may consider what 
McCormick no doubt felt to be a most cruel reverse of fortune, 
if not ruin to his future prospects in life, as one of those bless- 
ings in disguise, which men indeed do not know how to accept, 



484 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

but are nevertheless wisely ordered, to bring out the best that is 
in them. In the discarded reaper McCormick had a resource 
both congenial and stimulating. To that he therefore turned 
his attention, and from that day onward we have only to chron- 
icle his successes. 

In 1834 his first patent was secured, when he began the 
manufacture of the machine on a very limited scale, cautiously 
feeling his way with it, as he went along, while engaged in other 
pursuits, for he had not yet fully realized the value of his inven- 
tion. A second patent was taken out for important improve- 
ments in 1845. Additional patents issued in 1847 and 1848 for 
further improvements. In the year last mentioned seven hundred 
machines were built and sold. Other valuable patented improve- 
ments have since been added. When McCormick began his ex- 
periments the harvesting of a single acre was considered a fair 
day's work for one man. The reaping-machine as now perfected 
is capable of cutting and binding in sheaves, under the manage- 
ment of a girl or a boy having skill enough to drive a pair of 
horses, at the rate of two acres per hour. His earlier patents 
having expired, a refusal by the Patent Office to renew them 
threw open to competition all the leading features of the inven- 
tion. The expiration of the first patent — that of 1834 — hap- 
pened at a most critical moment for McCormick, who was then 
devoting himself to the introduction of his first machines; but 
disappointments like these, or perplexities incident to infringe- 
ments of his patents by rival manufacturers, seem only in the 
case of McCormick to have produced still greater exertions 
followed by greater successes. Allowing them free use of his 
expired patents, he still kept ahead of his competitors. The in- 
ventor of the sewing-machine had been able to secure a judicial 
confirmation of his rights to the principle of this wonderful 
mechanism, although the greatest improvements in it had not 
come from his hand or brain. McCormick, as we have seen, 
failed to obtain an equally equitable decision in his favor, and 
for the reason that his inventions were too valuable, in the 
opinion of the Patent authorities, to be the exclusive property 
of any one man. 



CYRUS HALL McCORMICK. 485 

In 1845 Mr. McCormick had removed to Cincinnati, Ohio, 
for the purpose of establishing himself there ; but with that 
keen foresight so characteristic of him, he was among the first 
to see the advantages which Chicago even at that early day 
possessed for becoming the commercial centre of the West. He 
accordingly removed there in 1847, and began the erection ol 
the first reaper works. 

When the success of the machine was assured, Mr. McCor- 
mick spent much of his time abroad, in bringing his machine to 
the notice of European agriculturists. In 185 1 he attended the 
World's Fair in London with his machine. During the early 
weeks of the exhibition it was the subject of much ridicule on 
the part of those who knew nothing of its character or its capabil- 
ities. Even the " London Times," in an article casting contempt 
on the poor show made in the American Department, character- 
ized the reaper as a monstrosity, something like a cross between 
an Astley chariot and a flying-machine. 

A few weeks later, when the machine was practically tested in 
the English harvest fields, ridicule was turned into admiration ; 
and those journals which, like the " Times," had sneered at the 
reaper on account of its queer looks, could not now say enough 
in its praise. The " Thunderer " declared it equal in value to the 
entire exhibition. McCormick suddenly found himself famous. 
His reaper received the grand Council medal of the exhibition. 
The press everywhere rang with his praise, and he was cheered, 
feasted, and toasted wherever he went. Greater honor has never 
been awarded to an American inventor. His was the rare grat- 
ification of having conquered the prejudice against everything 
American by exhibiting in practical operation the most skilfully 
contrived, the most original, and the most useful contribution 
to the needs of the great agricultural classes. It is true that 
McCormick had for some time longer to contend with efforts to 
belittle his invention on the part of those who could not be 
reconciled to the idea that this unknown and unheralded Amer- 
ican had carried off the honors of an exhibition that was ex- 
pected to assert the superiority of British inventors, and so had 
secured the prestige for his own country. But if John Bull is 



486 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

slow to admit himself vanquished, he is at least hearty in mak- 
ing due acknowledgment when fully convinced of error. The 
achievement of McCormick seems all the greater when we con- 
sider the nature of the obstacles which had to be overcome 
before the merits of his reaper were fully recognized in Great 
Britain. In the face of much carping criticism the inventor 
pursued the even tenor of his way, exhibiting, explaining, and 
vindicating his machine from attack with a persistency, a confi- 
dence in the great merit of his creation, that cannot fail to win 
our respect for those resources of mind that were always equal to 
the demands made upon him. 

At subsequent International Expositions — such as those at 
Paris in 1855; London, 1862; Hamburg, 1863; Paris, 1867; 
Vienna, 1873; Philadelphia (Centennial), 1876; Paris, 1878; 
Royal Agricultural Society, England, 1878; Melbourne, 1880; 
Royal Agricultural Society, England, 1881 ; Christ Church, New 
Zealand, 1882; Grosetto, Italy ; and at Louisville, 1883 — Mc- 
Cormick was equally triumphant. In addition to these high 
honors, often won in opposition to all the contesting machines of 
Europe and America, Mr. McCormick was decorated with the 
Cross of the Legion of Honor at Paris in 1867, and at the suc- 
ceeding Exposition of 1878 further honored with the decoration 
of Officer of the Legion of Honor ; and he was elected a member 
of the Academy of Sciences in the Department of Rural Econ- 
omy, as " having done more for the cause of agriculture than 
any other living man." 

Unlike most inventors, Mr. McCormick has been noted for 
the energy and shrewdness of an eminently successful business 
man, having in himself the rare combination of inventive in- 
genuity, mechanical skill, and tact to manage a business that 
has now been extended all over the world. 

In 1858 Mr. McCormick married a daughter of the late 
Melzar Fowler, a niece of Judge E. G. Merrick, of Detroit, — 
a most beautiful, accomplished, and refined lady, whose gentle- 
ness, charity, and good deeds adorn the position she occupies. 
Three sons and two daughters complete the family circle. The 
eldest son, C. H. McCormick, is in his twenty-fourth year, and 



CYRUS HALL McCORMICK. 487 

is assisting in the management and control of the immense busi- 
ness interests left by his father. 

It is gratifying to write that some part of the wealth which 
Mr. McCormick amassed from his inventions, in the course 
of a long and arduous business career, has taken the direction 
of practical philanthropy. Like the late George Peabody, the 
subject of our biography preferred to give during his life- 
time, to the end that he might see, or better direct, the fulfil- 
ment of those benevolent objects which his philanthropy aimed 
to bring about. He was the founder of the Presbyterian Theo- 
logical Seminary of the Northwest, at Chicago, having at the 
start donated $100,000 to endow a professorship in that insti- 
tution ; and during the years of its early struggles, before its 
ultimate success and permanency were secured, his purse was 
ever open to replenish its empty treasury, until he had nearly 
trebled the amount of his original donation. He also liber- 
ally remembered Washington College, and other institutions 
of his native State of Virginia. The city of Chicago, which 
was for thirty-seven years Mr. McCormick's adopted home, 
owes to him no small share of her great prosperity, as well 
as her increasing prestige at home and abroad. He had 
always been actively identified with the building up of this 
almost phenomenal American city ; and after the disastrous fire 
of 1 87 1, by which his own extensive works were laid in ashes 
with the rest of the city, he was one of the first to commence 
building again, thus inspiring confidence in others to follow his 
example. The new works occupy a tract of twenty-five acres. 
They are substantially built, and are furnished with every appli- 
ance requisite for turning out 50,000 machines annually, — that 
enormous figure, showing an increase in ten years of 32,000 and 
in fifteen years of 40,000 machines manufactured and sold, 
having been reached in 1883. 

To show what the reaping-machine has done for the age we 
live in, and more particularly for the Great West, would be our 
most congenial task, were not the facts within the recollection 
of every man living. It is an amazing record, one unmatched 
by any similar achievement even in this age of marvels. Old 



4#o OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

methods have been revolutionized. What was an uninhabited 
and unproductive region forty years ago has been converted 
into the great granary of the world, with a population of mil- 
lions, a thrift as boundless as its resources, and a weight in the 
nation that is already turning the scale against the older States 
of the East as the seat of power. " Tickle me with a hoe and 
I laugh with a harvest," is the promise held out to those farm- 
ers who have delved all their lives in less kindly soils for a bare 
subsistence. In the East small farms are the rule ; in the West 
they are the exception. And as the ability to cultivate large 
tracts — sometimes equalling in size a European principality — 
comes wholly from the introduction of improved machinery, 
so the work of estimating the past and present worth of a 
machine like McCormick's Reaper, which is not only labor- 
saving but labor-extending as well, is also the history of the 
marvellous development of a dozen or more new States and 
Territories of the Great West. 

Even the most superficial study of the character of Cyrus 
H. McCormick shows us a man who would unquestionably 
have made his mark upon the age in any calling. A closer 
look forcibly suggests that admirable relation which such men 
hold to certain eras of extraordinary progress in the world's 
history. In McCormick we .discover an inventor by heredity, 
but pre-eminently an inventor of the kind in whom an idea once 
seized upon becomes the fixed purpose of a lifetime, — an in- 
ventor who to superior intelligence unites the power of an iron 
will to achieve, and a certain grandeur of determination which 
knows no such word as fail. For a man so endowed one of 
the highest prizes that the world bestows upon the fortunate 
few might easily be predicted. It follows that in his lifetime 
McCormick reaped his abundant reward, both of honors and of 
more substantial wealth. But the world, which sees only the 
accomplished fact in its entirety, takes little note of the long 
and weary period of toil, the most exacting and unremitting to 
the inventor's brain, that has preceded the grand result. In a 
word, Mr. McCormick is a notable example of the typical, self- 
made American of the nineteenth century, whose achievements 



»y^y^gcg^@)^^^j)y^^ 




UmmT^^m^m^m^(m^^)2^^^^^)^(^^f^ 



L. J. M. DAGUERRE. 



L. J. M. DAGUERRE. 489 

in the interests of human progress have produced effects the 
most beneficent to mankind, and are therefore not for an age 
but for all time. 



L. J. M. DAGUERRE. 

[Born 17S9. Died 1851.] 

A T the session of the French Academy of Sciences, held 
-^■^ in January, 1839, M. Arago announced the remarkable 
discovery made by their countryman, M. Louis Jacques Da- 
guerre, by which the long-sought method of fixing the images 
of the camera obscura had at length been perfected. M. Da- 
guerre had explained in advance confidentially to M. Arago 
the processes by which this result had been secured ; so that 
the able and learned speaker was able to give a full and lucid 
account of this most interesting, admirable, and valuable achieve- 
ment in the interest of both science and art, — for to these twin 
branches its benefits were at first believed most to accrue. But 
even M. Arago's forecast, sound and discriminating as it was, fell 
far short of developing the ultimate value of Daguerre's dis- 
covery to mankind ; for instead of its inuring exclusively to 
the benefit of science or art, or of either of them, it speedily 
passed into the possession of the whole civilized world, and 
became domesticated in every household to whose treasures 
of affection or memory it had contributed so priceless a gift. 
Still, even within the limitations which were supposed at first to 
govern it, the discovery produced a startling impression upon 
the public. Daguerre had gone no further at this time than to 
reproduce upon his plates such architectural objects as were 
familiar to the Parisians, and might therefore be easily recog- 
nized ; but this feat, affording as it did the best test of the 
fidelity of Daguerre's processes, was quite enough to establish 
the fact that a great discovery had been made, and to fix a 



490 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

starting-point for the astonishing development that has suc- 
ceeded Daguerre's original efforts. 

Let us trace the progress of the discovery a little, in order 
to show how far Daguerre may be entitled to the name that 
we have assigned to him of a benefactor of the race. 

It is about two centuries ago since a Neapolitan scientist 
by the name of Giovanni Battista Porta discovered the camera 
obscura, or dark chamber, in which the images projected by a 
sun-ray upon the dark background of the chamber were re- 
produced with the utmost fidelity. But this was considered as 
no more than a curious phenomenon, and as such, attracted 
much attention from learned and unlearned. There the in- 
vention rested until Wedgwood, as we have stated in our 
sketch of him, attempted the transfer of objects, and also of 
paintings, sculptures, and engravings to his ware. Davy also 
made some experiments with the same general view ; but 
neither succeeded in obtaining the results he aimed at for 
want of knowledge of the proper chemical substances to hold 
the pictures he had obtained, which faded or turned black as 
soon as exposed to the light. The matter was, however, too 
interesting to be dropped. In 1814 a Frenchman named 
Niepce turned his attention to the same subject, pursuing it 
indefatigably until he had worked out his own ideas; and 
it is to him, more than to any other, Daguerre excepted, 
that the final and signal success of the great invention is due. 
Niepce's first efforts were directed to the fixing of silhouettes 
by chemical substances. For years he pursued his favorite 
idea until he had perfected a process by which he was able to 
do what Wedgwood and Davy had failed to accomplish ; 
namely, to copy engravings by the aid of the camera. Up to 
this point, where Niepce was joined by Daguerre as co-laborer 
in the purpose to work out the discovery to a practical so- 
lution, no one seems to have heard anything of Daguerre in 
connection with it, although M. Arago asserts that Daguerre 
had for several years been assiduously engaged upon the 
same thing as Niepce, each being ignorant of the other's 
purpose. 



L. J. M. DAGUERRE. 491 

Daguerre was born at Cormeilles in 1789. From infancy 
he showed a predilection for designing. He came to Paris, 
like so many other young men of talent, in search of the career 
that the great metropolis had opened to his ardent imagina- 
tion. His inclination for drawing, the proficiency he soon 
showed in that particular branch of art, procured him a situa- 
tion as scene painter and decorator in the theatres of Paris; 
and in this profession he rapidly took a leading place. Da- 
guerre's inventive genius soon asserted itself. He introduced 
many pleasing illusions by means of his art, to the wonder and 
delight of the Parisians ; but his greatest success as a painter 
came when he opened to the public his diorama, which was at 
that time a novelty in scenic representation. It had an immense 
popularity. The arrangement was a circular hall having a mov- 
able floor, which, by turning with the spectators upon it, trans- 
ferred them without inconvenience before the successive series 
of pictures with marvellous realistic effect. The diorama was, 
however, destroyed by fire. 

At this epoch, therefore, we find that Daguerre was an artist 
of merit in his particular line who had made a study of, and 
had introduced many novel optical effects into, scenic display 
in the theatre. His native ingenuity and invention had been 
shown too in working out the various improvements introduced 
by him ; but we are absolutely without knowledge respecting 
his earlier experiments with the camera obscura, or of the 
reasons which had induced him to set about the elucidation 
of its problems with all the energy of his nature. It is certain, 
only, that he had been some time at work over them, when he 
heard of M. Niepce, whom he immediately sought out, and 
with whom he subsequently formed a partnership for perfect- 
ing the discovery upon which both were intent. This instru- 
ment, which was signed in 1836, was duly recorded, and is 
in effect an admission by Niepce of Daguerre's claims at that 
particular stage of the discovery, since it is hardly to be sup- 
posed that Niepce would have admitted Daguerre to an equal 
share of the benefits of his own protracted experiments unless 
corresponding advantage to himself had been made clear to 



492 



OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 



his mind. We state this because it is asserted that while Niepce 
disclosed his processes to Daguerre, there is nothing to show 
what Daguerre offered him in return. It was understood and 
agreed that the new discovery should bear the names of both 
the contracting parties; but in consequence of a condition im- 
posed by M. Daguerre himself, the new process took the name 
of Daguerre only, — hence, Daguerreotype. Niepce died in 1833, 
six years before the discovery was made public. It aroused a 
veritable enthusiasm. At the instance of the Academy the 
process was purchased by the State; and then, in a spirit most 
honorable to the nation, it was given to the public, — Daguerre 
receiving an annuity of 6,000 francs, and Niepce Ji's, 4,000 francs. 
Daguerre continued to devote himself to the improvement of 
his processes. In the meantime an Englishman named Talbot 
had nearly secured the result achieved by Daguerre, and now 
appeared as his competitor for the honor of the discovery. 
His claims, however, were not allowed by the French Academy, 
to which body Mr. Talbot had submitted them, although his 
process differed from that of Daguerre in that Talbot took 
his images on chemically prepared paper instead of metal. 
In 185 1, when M. Daguerre died, the art of photography was 
still in its infancy; but under the impetus of publicity, it has 
since made great progress. Not only his own process, but 
that of Talbot, has been entirely superseded by the improve- 
ments of Mr. Scott Archer, of England, glass being now used 
to receive the image instead of metal or paper, thus securing 
almost indefinite duplication of a subject. It should be stated, 
however, that Dr. J. W. Draper, of New York, was the first to 
obtain with enlarged lenses portraits by the process of Daguerre. 
From every point of view, the grand discovery of Daguerre is 
one of the most useful that has signalized the century we live 
in; and its possibilities seem all the greater when we consider 
its earlier achievements in the light of present adaptability 
to the multitude of purposes for which it may be employed. 
If printing is the art preservative of all arts, photography 
merits a still higher place, since it preserves for us an exact 
counterpart of the object itself, while printing at most secures 




WILLIAM T. G. MORTON. 



WILLIAM T. G. MORTON. 493 

only a history or a description, more or less accurate accord- 
ing to the ability of the writer to convey the impression he 
may have received. As a disseminator of the great works of 
art, photography has already proved a valuable means of art 
education to the masses. 



WILLIAM T. G. MORTON. 

[Born 1819. Died 1868.] 

WE have once more to repeat, what must have become 
already apparent to the reader of the foregoing pages, 
that those discoveries from which mankind has derived the 
greatest benefits are as often the result of some quick grasp of 
principles, followed by decisive action thereon, as of the pro- 
longed and studious application of scientific methods, by scien- 
tific men, to the same end. In making its awards the world 
does not ask for a diploma, but for a result. Such, in fact, is the 
whole philosophy of the ether discovery. 

In the early part of the month of October, 1846, members of 
the medical staff of the Massachusetts General Hospital at 
Boston were much importuned by a young surgeon dentist of 
that city for permission to try upon some of the hospital patients 
the effect of a preparation he had discovered. He asserted 
that this preparation would produce insensibility to pain, that 
he had tried it successfully in his own practice in extracting 
teeth, and that he had fully proved it to be perfectly harm- 
less in its after results upon the patient. In the language of 
one of the surgeons, Dr. Morton " haunted " them. The proposal 
itself was so novel, not to say audacious, when coming from 
one outside of the medical profession, so contrary to all the 
traditions of that profession, that it was some time before 
consent to make the trial could be had ; but Morton's impor- 
tunities at last prevailed with Dr. J. C. Warren, the eminent 
surgeon in charge, who agreed to make the experiment at the 



494 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

earliest opportunity. Dr. W. T. G. Morton was then a young 
man of twenty-six, a native of Charlton, Massachusetts, who 
had studied medicine for a short time in the office of Dr. 
Charles T. Jackson, and had attended medical lectures at the 
Massachusetts Hospital, the better to qualify himself for his 
chosen profession of dentistry, to which he returned with re- 
newed zeal after concluding his studies in medicine and chem- 
istry with Dr. Jackson, and in anatomy at the hospital. The 
acquaintance he had thus formed with members of the medi- 
cal profession was no doubt of advantage to Dr. Morton in 
procuring for him a hearing, at least; but it is well established 
that his own unaided efforts were, at this critical period in its 
history, his sole reliance in obtaining the opportunity he sought 
of testing his new sleeping-potion. Even the officers of the 
hospital were incredulous. Morton would only disclose that 
his preparation was to be inhaled; but they wisely determined, 
as it turned out, to make the experiment in the interests of 
humanity as well as of medical science. 

The opportunity soon came. A patient at the hospital, hav- 
ing to undergo an operation for the removal of a tumor from 
the neck, was brought into the operating theatre on Friday, 
October 16. By request of Dr. Warren, who had seasonably 
recollected his promise, the house surgeon had invited Dr. 
Morton to attend, and make the first application of his then 
unknown compound. It may readily be supposed that Dr. 
Morton had lost no time in presenting himself at the hospital. 
How the operation was performed, how its success was first 
heralded to the world, will be best understood and appreciated 
by giving here, verbatim, the account that appeared in the Bos- 
ton "Transcript" of October 17, 1846. Several other journals 
have been consulted without finding any notice whatever of the 
operation. We beg the reader's attention to this fact, as it has 
an important bearing not only upon the discovery itself, but 
also upon the claim of priority afterwards advanced by another 
candidate for its honors. ' The " Transcript " said : — 

" We understand that Dr. Morton, at the invitation of Dr. 
Hayward of the McLean Hospital, administered his prcpara- 



WILLIAM T. G. MORTON. 495 

tion to produce sleep, yesterday morning, to a man who had a 
tumor extracted from the neck. Our informant, who conversed 
with one of the physicians who witnessed the operation, states 
that the man, after inhaling the preparation for a few moments, 
was lost in sleep, giving no symptom of suffering while Dr. 
Warren was extracting the tumor. He was totally unconscious 
of what was going on till near the close of the operation (which 
lasted longer than usual), when he drew a long sigh. The 
unconscious state in which the man was afforded the surgeon 
an opportunity to perform the operation expeditiously, unin- 
terrupted by any struggles or shrinking of the patient." 

On the day following the first operation, a similar one was 
performed with equal success. In both these cases the inhala- 
tion of Dr. Morton's preparation was followed by a condition 
of insensibility to pain throughout the critical part of the op- 
eration. But we now have to record the crowning triumph 
achieved by Dr. Morton, and we will do it in the language of 
the surgeon who performed the operation of amputating the 
leg of a female patient ; for whatever may have been the opin- 
ion of medical experts in regard to the importance of the 
earlier operations, this at least was admitted to be a full and 
critical test of the value of the discovery to the practice of 
surgery, and as such its result was awaited with the greatest 
interest by unprofessional as well as professional persons. 

Up to this time Dr. Morton had been administering sulphuric 
ether to the patients without letting the operating surgeons know 
more than what was indeed evident, that it was some highly 
volatile, spirituous liquid, which had a pungent, though not dis- 
agreeable odor when allowed to escape through the inhaling 
tube. He had, in fact, excellent reasons for pursuing this 
course. 

Dr. Hayward, the surgeon who subsequently performed the 
first amputation, now determined to go no farther in the dark ; 
and upon being put in charge of the surgical department of the 
hospital he refused to allow the surgical patients to inhale this 
preparation of Dr. Morton during his term of service, unless all 
the surgeons of the hospital were told what it was, and were 



49<5 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

satisfied of the safety of using it; "for,'-' says Dr. Hayward, in 
his paper giving an account of this operation, "we were theft 
ignorant of the precise nature of it. Dr. Warren agreed with me 
as to the propriety of this course/' That is to say, Dr. Mor- 
ton's preparation had been twice used at the hospital without 
knowledge of its component parts ; or, in other words, it was 
unknown in the practice of surgery. Dr. Hayward goes on to 
say that " on the 6th of November Dr. Morton called at my 
house, and asked me if I was willing to have his preparation 
inhaled by a patient whose limb I was to amputate on the fol- 
lowing day. I told him of the conversation I had had with Dr. 
Warren on the subject. Dr. Morton at once said that he was 
ready to let us know what the article was, and to give to the 
surgeons of the hospital the right to use it when they pleased. 
He added that he would send me a letter, in the course of the 
day, to this effect." Dr. Morton was as good as his word. 
The proposal was maturely considered by the surgeons, who 
were unanimously of the opinion that ether should be inhaled 
by the patient who was to undergo the operation on that day. 

The old and (to the sufferer who had to endure them with no 
other strength than that with which nature had endowed him) 
appalling methods attendant upon a capital operation are too 
painful, even in the bare relation, for us to dwell upon. There 
was no royal road under the dissecting knife. The strong man 
and the tender woman alike must submit to a period of torture 
which not unfrequently left the poor maimed human being flut- 
tering between life and death. To the agony attending the 
operation itself was joined that terrible tension of the nerves 
under which the patient often sunk into a deadly stupor from 
which no skill could recall him to life. But what were the few 
whom accidents or disease brought into our hospitals, there to 
be treated under the most favorable conditions, when compared 
with the numbers of maimed and crippled sufferers who had to 
submit to amputations hurriedly performed on the field of bat- 
tle? At the very moment of Morton's discovery hundreds of 
our soldiers were undergoing in Mexico the cruel torture of the 
dissecting knife. We shudder to think how much suffering 



WILLIAM T. G. MORTON. 497 

might have been averted, and how many valuable lives saved to 
the world, had there been earlier knowledge of the power of 
this wonderful anaesthesia 1 over pain. And yet we are asked to 
believe that the discovery was already in the possession of a 
prominent member of the medical fraternity ! 

At this capital operation, the first performed in any country 
with the aid of ether, the operating-room was crowded. The 
principal physicians and surgeons of the city, many medical stu- 
dents, besides men prominent in various callings, were there await- 
ing in the utmost anxiety the result of the experiment they were 
about to witness. Dr. Hayward simply told them that it had 
been decided to allow the patient to inhale an article which was 
said to have the power of annulling pain. The patient was then 
brought in. She was a delicate-looking girl of about twenty 
years of age, who had suffered for a long time from a scrofulous 
disease of the knee-joint. The mouth-piece of the inhaling in- 
strument was put into her mouth, and she was directed to take 
long inspirations. In about three minutes Dr. Morton said, 
•" She is ready." A deathlike stillness reigned in the room as 
Dr. Hayward began the operation by passing his knife directly 
through the diseased limb. Upon seeing this the spectators 
seemed to stop breathing. The patient gave no sign of feeling 
or consciousness whatever, but looked like one in a deep, quiet 
sleep. One long and audible murmur announced the relief 
experienced by the audience. When the last artery was being 
tied, the patient groaned, and consciousness soon returned ; but 
she was wholly ignorant, and at first would not believe, that the 
surgeon's work was done, and that the leg had been removed 
while she slept. 

The discovery was of course carried far and wide with all 
speed, since upon such certain demonstration of its invaluable 
worth to society as had been given, no other topic could begin 
to claim the same interest with the whole public, learned or 
unlearned, as this. In Europe it was received with the greatest 
enthusiasm, and was speedily introduced into the hospitals of 

1 The use of this word in etherization was first proposed by Dr. O. W. Holmes. 
3 2 



498 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

England, France, and Germany with the same flattering results 
as had followed its use in our own country. Before the learned 
bodies of those countries the discussion of its merits and its pos- 
sibilities superseded for the time every other question. But while 
the world was thus congratulating itself upon so auspicious an 
event, a most bitter controversy had begun in the United States 
as to who was entitled to the credit of the discovery. After the 
second surgical operation had been performed at the Massachu- 
setts Hospital, and not until then, a new claimant appeared in 
Dr. Charles T. Jackson, with whom it has been mentioned that 
Dr. Morton had studied, and who had also laid claim to the dis- 
covery of the magnetic telegraph in opposition to Professor 
Morse. Dr. Jackson now asserted that he had not only discov- 
ered the anaesthetic properties of ether himself, but that he had 
explained them to Dr. Morton, and had suggested to him the 
use of ether in extracting teeth. Dr. Morton denied to Dr. 
Jackson any further agency in the discovery than some general 
information upon the chemical properties of ether dropped in 
the course of conversation. It appeared in evidence that not 
only had Dr. Jackson refused to sanction Dr. Morton's efforts to 
make the discovery public, but he had distinctly discountenanced 
them as reckless and untrustworthy. It was also shown that 
Dr. Morton had been experimenting with ether for some time 
before applying to Dr. Jackson for specific information in regard 
to the best way of inhaling it. For this information, given in 
his capacity of chemist and without reservation, Dr. Jackson 
made a fixed charge of $500; but upon the representations 
of mutual friends of the advantage to him of Dr. Jackson's 
name and influence, Dr. Morton generously agreed to allow 
the insertion of Dr. Jackson's name as joint discoverer with 
himself, in the caveat for a patent, Dr. Jackson then or sub- 
sequently assigning his own interest in the discovery to Dr. 
Morton for a stipulated consideration. In November, 1846, a 
patent was issued to Dr. Morton ; but in consequence of the re- 
newal of the controversy with Dr. Jackson, who had disavowed 
his previous engagements, the patentee's rights were so gen- 
erally disregarded that in 1849 he found himself obliged to 



WILLIAM T. G. MORTON. 499 

appeal to Congress for a pecuniary compensation in room of the 
valueless patent which he now offered to surrender. 

Upon these facts, with all the voluminous testimony surround- 
ing them, several reports are of record. One emanates from 
the Trustees of the Massachusetts General Hospital, who gave, 
by a unanimous voice, the honor of the discovery to Dr. [Mor- 
ton. One year later, upon request of Dr. Jackson, they reviewed 
their first decision, and unanimously confirmed it. 

In Congress, from 1849 to I 854, inclusive, two reports were 
made by committees of the House of Representatives, the testi- 
mony in each case being exhaustively considered, affirming the 
right of Dr. Morton and recommending compensation. Two 
committees of the Senate concurred in the reports of the 
House. Bills were reported in both bodies, and were lost in 
the mass of unfinished business. Worn out and hopeless of 
any action on the part of Congress, Dr. Morton, by advice of 
the President, brought suit against an army surgeon for using 
ether in a government hospital, in order to establish a direct 
claim for compensation. He recovered judgment, but nothing 
else. In 1863, Dr. Morton's patent having in the meantime ex- 
pired, the matter was again brought before Congress. Once 
more the decision was in Dr. Morton's favor ; but no substantial 
aid to the now disheartened and bankrupt discoverer followed, 
and had it not been for the generous action of the medical pro- 
fession of the country in setting on foot for him a national testi- 
monial, the discoverer of etherization in surgery would perhaps 
have ended his days in poverty. He also received from the 
French Academy the Monthyon prize in the form of their 
largest gold medal. A similar prize, 2,500 francs, was also 
awarded to Dr. Jackson " for his observations and experiments 
upon the anaesthetic effects of sulphuric ether." 

Dr. Morton died in 1868, after undergoing a series of trials, 
persecutions, and misfortunes almost unexampled in the event- 
ful lives of great public benefactors. Received first with in- 
credulity, then with hostility, by a large part of the medical 
world, the greatness of his discovery soon overwhelmed all 
opposition; but the indefatigable discoverer had to contend 



500 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

long and manfully against professional bigotry, the envy of 
little minds, the force of old traditions, or a conservatism which 
is startled by every innovation. The opposition to Morton was 
both able and unscrupulous. His enemies denounced and ridi- 
culed him in the same breath, — denounced him for wishing to 
secure for himself and his family the fruits of his discover)-; 
ridiculed him for his " audacity," " recklessness," and " pre- 
sumption" in making that inestimable boon known to the world. 
From first to last his efforts to secure suitable recognition from 
the public or the nation were thwarted by the active hostility of 
a rival whose claim has been again and again sifted until noth- 
ing remains but a bare suggestion. Be it ever so great, of what 
advantage to the world, let us ask, is the knowledge that is 
withheld from it ? Dr. Jackson's bore fruit only through the 
greater acuteness and persevering energy of Dr. Morton. While 
there is no evidence that Dr. Jackson could or would have ad- 
vanced the knowledge of etherization one step farther than was 
known to all the medical world, 1 it remains more than probable 
that but for Dr. Morton's active entrance into the field this 
grandest discovery of the age might have been still an un- 
solved enigma. To this conclusion all the earlier and later 
investigation of the subject upon its merits has inevitably led ; 
and while not acting in that spirit of enlightened generosity 
which had characterized the action of the French Government 
towards Daguerre and other eminent discoverers, our own has 
said, through its legislative and executive branches, and has 
placed it upon its records, that Dr. W. T. G. Morton is the 
actual discoverer of etherization in medicine. 2 



1 " The first discovery of the use of ether by inhalation is claimed for Sir H. Davy. 
The liquid is said to have been known to Raymond Sully, who lived in the thir- 
teenth century. It was Dr. Frobenious, in 1730, who first drew the attention of 
chemists to this curious liquor, and he described several of its properties. In his 
paper it was first called Ether?' — Muspratt. Morton first gave his discovery the 
name of Letheon. 

2 We can allow but the space of a note to the claim of Dr. Horace Wells, which 
is thus ably summarized in the "Congressional Report :" "That Dr. Horace Wells 
did not make any discovery of the anaesthetic properties of sulphuric ether, which 
he himself considered reliable, and which he thought proper to give to the world; 




ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL. 



ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL. 501 

There is in the Public Garden of the City of Boston a beauti- 
ful monument, dedicated to and perpetuating the discovery of 
ether as an anaesthetic. It is a superb memorial of the skill of 
the sculptor Ward. Public opinion will, we think, sustain us in 
the wish to see an important omission supplied by placing 
thereon the name of the discoverer, William Thomas Green 
Morton. The monument will then be complete. 



ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL. 

A T the Centennial Exhibition held, at Philadelphia in 1876, 
-^-*- commemorative largely of the world's progress, as well 
as of strictly American achievement and resources in every 
conceivable field of labor, was first seen an instrument that 
attracted marked attention by its novelty, as well as universal 
wonder by what it could be made to do. Had the Sphinx 
opened its granite lips, surprise could hardly have been greater 
or more genuine ; for this machine could transmit articulate 
speech from one point to another with absolute fidelity, thus 
surpassing all the conceptions of physicists, while unscientific 
people hardly knew whether science had compassed another 
miracle, or whether they were being cheated with some clever de- 
vice. Indeed, it was one of those amazing discoveries that, had it 
occurred in the days of the Inquisition, would have brought the 
inventor under suspicion of dealing in sorcery. This instrument 
was the now famous Speaking Telephone of Professor Alexan- 
der Graham Bell. 

In order to convey something like a proper idea of the way 
in which the telephone struck eminent scientific thinkers and 
workers, we will reproduce the first experience of Sir William 

that his experiments were confined to nitrous oxide, but did not show it to be an 
efficient and reliable anaesthetic agent, proper to be used in surgical operations 
and in obstetrical cases." 



502 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

Thompson, himself an eminent electrician and inventor, had 
with Bell's original instrument; and we will give Sir William's 
own language, as addressed to the British Association at Glas- 
gow, in September, 1876. We may then be better able to 
judge of the impression made by the telephone upon the gen- 
eral public. 

" In the Department of Telegraphs in the United States," 
says Sir William Thompson, " I saw and heard Mr. Elisha 
Gray's electric telephone, of wonderful construction, which can 
repeat four despatches at the same time in the Morse code; and 
with some improvements in detail this instrument is evidently 
capable of a fourfold delivery. In the Canadian Department I 
heard 'To be or not to be? . . . There's the rub,' uttered 
through a telegraphic wire ; and its pronunciation by electricity 
only made the rallying tone of the monosyllables more em- 
phatic. The wire also repeated some extracts from New York 
papers. With my own ears I heard all this, distinctly articu- 
lated through the slender circular disk formed by the armature 
of an electro-magnet. It was my fellow-juryman, Professor 
Watson, who at the other extremity of the line uttered these 
words in a loud, distinct voice, while applying his mouth to a 
tightly stretched membrane provided with a small piece of soft 
iron, which executed movements corresponding to the sound- 
vibrations of the air, close to an electro-magnet introduced into 
the circuit." 

This discovery he calls " the wonder of wonders in electric 
telegraphy," so that we may rest assured in respect to its strik- 
ing novelty in the scientific world, although familiarity has so 
far worn off that novelty. that we can hardly hope to reproduce, 
even in a slight degree, the extraordinary effect caused by the 
first achievements of the telephone ; yet the public had been 
for a long time in possession of that simple toy, the string tele- 
phone, which, to unscientific minds at least, seemed the clew 
conducting to the greater discovery. 

The telephone exhibited at Philadelphia by Bell with such 
striking results had reached only the first stages of develop- 
ment. Two instruments were required, — one to send, the other 



ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL. 503 

to receive, the spoken message. Consequently two would have 
to be used at each telephone station. Many improvements have 
since been made by Bell and others. " The prodigious results 
attained with the Bell telephones, which were at first discredited 
by many scientific men, necessarily provoked, as soon as their 
authenticity was proved, innumerable researches on the part of 
inventors, and even of those who were originally the most in- 
credulous. A host of improvements have consequently been 
suggested." 

It is claimed that the idea of the telephone is as old as the 
world itself, and that it was employed in some form to convey 
the decrees of the pagan oracles to those who consulted them, 
perhaps by means of a speaking-tube. Even as early as 1667 
Robert Hooke seems to have made some progress in the study 
of acoustics, as related to the transmission of sound ; for he 
asserts that with the help of a " distended wire he had propa- 
gated sound to a very considerable distance in an instant, or 
with seemingly as quick a motion as that of light." 

But the string telephone, which was so freely hawked about 
the streets a few years ago, and was regarded only as an inter- 
esting plaything, seems to have been the first practical form 
that the coming discovery had assumed. This appeared in 
Europe in 1867. Its principle is too simple to need explana- 
tion. Under the best conditions, speech could be exchanged 
by it to a distance of 170 yards. The speaking-tube or mouth- 
piece, the diaphragm to catch and transmit vibrations of the 
voice, and the connecting chord, are all found in the string tele- 
phone, which was, so to speak, the forerunner of the electric 
telephone ; and since that invention has come into general use 
the string telephone is again the fashion, as it succeeds in 
conveying to the unskilled mind, and in the simplest manner, 
those principles of acoustics common to both methods of 
transmission. 

Up to the time of Bell's invention the transmission of speech 
could only be effected with the aid of acoustic tubes or of the 
string telephone. Yet the idea of electrical transmission seems 
clearly expressed by M. Charles Bourseul, in a paper published 



504 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

by him in 1854. He says: " I have, for example, asked myself 
whether speech itself may not be transmitted by electricity ; in 
a word, if what is spoken in Vienna may not be heard in Paris. 
The thing is practicable in this way: Suppose that a man 
speaks near a movable disk sufficiently flexible to lose none of 
the vibrations of the voice, that this disk alternately makes and 
breaks the currents from a battery; you may have at a dis- 
tance another disk, which will simultaneously execute the same 
vibrations. . . . Reproduce at the one end of the line the vi- 
brations of air caused at the other, and speech will be trans- 
mitted, however complex the mechanism may be by which it is 
effected." 

Still, we see that, notwithstanding the telephone existed in a 
crude form, and that the idea of electrical force as the agent 
destined for advancing it to the point of great utility, was slowly 
germinating in some minds at least, it was not for twenty years 
after the remarkable statements we have quoted from M. Bour- 
seul, that the problem approached practical solution, and not 
until 1876 that it was finally solved in the manner we have 
already related. The demonstration then came, not from Eu- 
rope, but from America. In that year, and in fact on the same 
day, both Professor Bell and Elisha Gray filed caveats in the 
Patent Office at Washington, for a speaking telephone. It is 
not our province to discuss the question of priority to which 
this simultaneous application gave rise. It seems certain that 
Gray had invented a perfectly practicable telephonic system of 
his own at least as early as Professor Bell. The patent, on 
account of some informality on the part of his distinguished 
competitor for this high honor, was however issued to Bell, 
who, as we have seen, exhibited his invention a few months 
later at Philadelphia in working condition, although, as we have 
shown, later improvements were required to adapt for general 
use. 

Mr. A. Graham Bell's own account of his discovery of the 
telephone is substantially the following. It is not the result, 
he says, of a spontaneous and fortunate conception, but of long 
and patient studies in acoustic science and of the labors of the 



ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL. 505 

physicists who preceded him. 1 His father, Mr. Alexander M. 
Bell, of Edinburgh, had already made this science a study with 
the most interesting results, among which that of instilling into 
his son a taste for these experiments must take a foremost 
place. Bell first invented an electric harmonica, with a key- 
board, that when set in motion could reproduce sounds corre- 
sponding to the notes struck, as in the piano-forte. He next 
turned his attention to the idea of making the electro-magnet 
transmit audible sounds, as had long been done by the Morse 
Sounders, — by applying this system to his electric harmonica. 
By employing an intensifying instrument at the receiving sta- 
tion, Bell thought it would be possible to obtain through a 
single wire simultaneous transmission of sounds produced by 
the action of the voice. This idea was realized almost at the 
same time by M. Paul Lacour, Elisha Gray, Edison, and Var- 
ley. Mr. Bell's study of electric telephones really dates from 
this time. Other claimants have appeared in Mr. John Ca- 
mack, Signor Manzetti, Mr. Drawbaugh, and in Professor 
Dolbear, of Tufts College, Massachusetts. 

Professor Bell's experiments were conducted in the laboratory 
of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, — an institution 
yet young, but having already graduated some of the rising men 
of the day in the various departments of applied science. Here 
was perfected the instrument exhibited at Philadelphia. The 
use of a voltaic battery was at length discarded by Bell, who 
found that equal or better results might be had with an induction 
current, produced by permanent magnets. The battery tele- 
phone has been treated of in a preceding article; but it should 
be mentioned that, having found induced currents more favor- 
able to telephonic transmission than voltaic currents, Mr. Edi- 
son, by an ingenious contrivance, soon transformed the cur- 
rent passing from his battery through the sender into induced 
currents. 

Professor Bell's experiments in electrical science have pur- 
sued a wide range, and have shown him to be an original and 

1 See Mr. Bell's paper in the "Journal of the Society of Telegraphic Engineers," 
vol. vi. pp. 390, 391. 



506 OUR GREAT BENEFACTORS. 

penetrating thinker. During the fatal illness of the lamented 
Garfield, Professor Bell made a number of experiments with an 
electrical apparatus, with the view of detecting the exact posi- 
tion of the assassin's bullet; but in this instance no tangible 
results rewarded the hopes which had been raised in the minds 
of the surgeons, who had been baffled in every attempt to locate 
the ball. Professor Bell's experiments have also included a 
method of producing artificial respiration and of effecting sound 
by the action of light ; but it is by the speaking telephone that 
he is most widely and favorably known to the world at large as 
a public benefactor. Certainly no modern invention has been 
received with more universal appreciation; for its uses are as un- 
limited as are the requirements of our every-day affairs in com- 
municating with one another, and it has effected a saving in 
time and labor not readily to be estimated in dollars and cents. 
Truly this is an age of marvels ; but the end is not yet. 



INDEX. 



Addison, Joseph : literary ability, 3S ; par- 
entage, birthplace, education, works, 39 ; 
travels, essays, 40 ; marriage, death, popular- 
ity, 41 ; wit, character, 42 ; disposition, 43 ; 
compared with Lamb, S7 ; influence over 
Burns, 112 ; Ben. Franklin's study of, 342 ; 
poem on Blenheim and the storm-spirit, 

Africa: Livingstone's explorations, 201-206; 
Colonization Society, 261, 262; slaves first 
sent to America, 267 ; telegraphy, 460. 

Agriculture : benefit to humanity, 175 ; Burritt's 
pursuit, 2S9 ; George Moore's avoidance, 
311; indebtedness to Davy, 42S ; influence 
of McCormick's inventions, 4S1-4S9. 

Alchemy : decadence, 14 ; Roger Bacon's stud- 
ies, 331, 332. (See Chemistry.) 

America: Columbus's discovery, 175-180; the 
name, 181 ; Boone's service, 195^200 ; Penn's 
colonization, 237-240 ; projected venture of 
Hampden and others, 359; Washington's 
pioneer work, 366-372; Humboldt's explora- 
' tions, 393, 394 ; Lyell's, 450, 451 ; telegraphy, 
460. (See United States.) 

American Revolution : effect on Campbell fam- 
ily, 88 ; slavery afterwards, 26S ; Franklin's 
service, 344-346 ; Washington's, ^73, 374- 

Anne, Queen : relations to Burnet, 37 ; wars, 
55 ; patroness of Wren, 147 ; knights New- 
ton, 327. 

Arabic : Roger Bacon's study, 330, 332 ; botany. 

3 S 3- 

Arago, Dominique : on telegraphy, 460 ; dis- 
coveries, 463 ; introduction of Daguerre, 4S9, 
490. 

Architecture : Wren's works, 144-149 ; the 
classic in, 157 ; of lighthouses, 396-401. 

Arctic and Antarctic regions : Captain Cook's 
discoveries, 188 ; voyages of Franklin and 
others, 189-195 ; Linnaeus's survey, 3S6. 

Arkwright, Sir Richard : birthplace, poverty, 
no schooling, 401 ; barber's trade, perpetual 
motion, first hints, 402 ; success, industry, 
treatment of wife, 403 ; usefulness, Fulton's 
estimate, 404. 



Art : Mrs. Jameson's work, 94-9S ; proper aim, 
103; the classic element, 157, 158; pottery, 
162, 163; in Italy, 165; perfection, 166; 
Morse's studies, 463; Daguerre's service, 
4S9-493. (See Painting, Hogarth, etc.) 

Asia : Havelock's Burmese victory, 306 ; tele- 
graphy, 460. 

Astrology, decadence, 14, 324. 

Astronomy : growth, 324, 332 ; discussions, 379 ; 
Southern Cross, 395 ; Brewster's and Whe- 
well's theories, 439, 440. 



B. 



Bacon, Francis : compared with Roger, 329 ; 
with Locke, 334 ; contrasted with Sir Thomas 
More, 34 S ; age, 350. 

Bacon, Roger : scholarship, 32S ; birthplace, 
education, logic, 329 ; Paris, Julian Calendar, 
330; other scientific studies, Opus Majus, 
331 ; last w r ork, death, discoveries, 332 ; con- 
temporary follies, 333. 

Beecher family, 131-137. 

Belgium, Stephenson's visit, 419. 

Bell, Alexander Graham : allusion, 472 ; Cen- 
tennial Exhibition, 501 ; Sir William Thomp- 
son's tribute, telephone, 502 ; prior attempts, 
503 ; development, Gray's claims, 504 ; elec- 
tric experiments, simultaneous discoveries, 
505 ; future investigations, 506. 

Bell, Andrew: Madras system, 274; birth- 
place, education, mission to India, 275 ; hint 
from Malabar school, Frisken's co-operation, 
276; successful experiment, return to Eng- 
land, 277 ; English schools, opposition of 
Lancaster's system, 278; National schools, 
death, burial, 279 ; Scotch characteristics, 280. 

Benevolence, George Moore's, 314, 315. (See 
Humanity. ) 

Bible : quotation about death, 5 ; Buchanan's 
paraphrase of Psalms, 10 ; Flaxman's studies, 
168, 171; Raleigh's allusion, 1S2; inscrip- 
tion, 1S5 ; Heber's Dictionary, 229 ; influ- 
ence over Lincoln and our language, 270, 
271 ; over Andrew Bell, 281, 2S2, 2S5, 2S6; 
Marshman's translation, 286, 2S7 ; William 



508 



INDEX. 



Darling's belief, 300, 304; Havelock's devo- 
tion, 306 ; Roger Bacon's adherence, 333 ; 
Locke's Commentary, 339 ; Solomon's 
learning, 3S3 ; conflict with geology, 450 ; 
Miller's defence, 457. 
Birds : Shakspearean allusions, 19-21 ; Burus's 

fondness, 114. 
Boone, Daniel : birthplace, parentage, 195 ; 
marriage, Western explorations, 196 ; settle- 
ment of Kentucky, 197 ; Indian troubles, 
1 9 IS ; French War, peace, 199; award of 
land, death, character, 200. 
Boston : Garrison's home and work, 260-266 ; 
Morton's experiments, 493-501. (See Frank- 
lin, etc.) 
Boswell, James : relations to Johnson, 44 ; 
Goldsmith, 58 ; quotation about steam, 410. 
Botany: investigations of Linnaeus, 381-389; 
Watt's interest, 40S ; Davy's, 42S, 429 ; 
Hill's father, 447. (See Science. ) 
Boulton, Matthew : his association with Watt, 

410 ; problems, 412; engine-builder, 414. 
Bravery: Buchanan's, 7-1 1 ; Milton's, 25-29 ; 
Bunyan's, 30-34 ; Burnet's, 34-3S ; John- 
son's, 43-46; Scott's, 76; Lamb's, 84; 
Columbus's, 1 75-181; Raleigh's, 1S2-189; 
Sir John Franklin's, 1S9-195 ; Boone's, 195- 
200 ; Livingstone's, 201-206 ; Howard's, 211 ; 
Pinel's, 215,216; Mrs. Fry's, 221; Wil- 
berforce's, 253, 254; Garrison's, 258-266; 
Lr.ndy's, 258, 259 ; Burritt's, 286, 28S ; 
Marshman's, 287 ; Grace Darling's, 299-304 ; 
William Darling's, 303-302 ; Havelock's, 
304-309; Sir Thomas More's, 349, 350; 
Sidney's, 354, 355 ; Hampden's, 358-360 ; no 
monopoly, 36 1 ; Lord and Lady Russell's, 
362-366; Washington's, 368-374; at Eddy- 
stone, 399 ; Greathead's, 424 ; in general, 
447 ; Morse's, 464. 
Brewster, Sir David : education, inquiries into 
light) 457 ! kaleidoscope, stereoscope, and 
other discoveries, 43S ; literary contributions, 
controversy with Whewell, 439 ; genius, 
merits, death, 440. 
Bristol : Hannah More's birthplace, 66, 67 ; 

Southey's, 78, 70. 
Brougham, Lord Henry : estimate of Romilly, 
246; opposition to Lancaster's system, 279 ; 
association with Brewster, 437. 
Browning, Elizabeth Barrett: friendship for 

Mrs. Jameson, 9S ; tribute to Watt, 411. 
Buchanan, George: birthplace, scholarship, 8; 
royal friendship, authorship, religious per- 
secution, 9 ; in France and Portugal, relation 
to James VI., 10 ; pension, books, burial, 
character, 1 r ; age, ^50. 
Bunyan, John: allusion, 6; boyhood, 30; 
preaching, 31; family, 32; book, 33, 34; 
Flaxman's studies, 168; influence' over 
Lincoln, 271; over Lancaster, 2S0; over 
Miller. 453. 
Burke, Edmund : ranked with Johnson, 45 ; 
relations to Goldsmith, 59 ; compared with 
Pitt, etc., 249. 



Burnet, Gilbert : birthplace, parentage, educa- 
tion, travels, 34 ; professional life, marriage, 
works, 355 on the Continent, second mar- 
riage, 36 ; bishopric, polemics, third mar- 
riage, death, 37 ; character, 38 ; execution of 
Russell, 364-366. 

Burns, Robert : pension, 4 ; popularity. 1 1 1 ; 
panntage, education, integrity. 112; patri- 
otism, poetic success, 113; literary tank, 
regard for the other sex, life in Edinburgh, 
114; return to farming, placeman, death, 

Burritt, Elihu : nature's nobility, 2S6 ; a prophet 
without honor in his own country, birthplace, 
parentage, trade, limited education, 2S7 ; a 
working-man, peace principles, temperance, 
etc., 288; writings, ocean-postage, 2S9. 



Cambridge University: Milton there, 26; 
Gray, 47; Wren's work, 144; Whitbread's 
connection, 247 ; Maurice's, 290 ; Selwyn's, 
297; Newton's, 327; Sidney's, 351; Har- 
vey's, 377. 

Campbell, Thomas : influence, birthplace, 87 ; 
family, education, 88 ; tutorship, works, 89 ; 
travels, charged with treason, marriage, 90 ; 
troubles, appointed Lord Rector, death, 91. 

Canada: Mrs. Jameson's residence, 94, 95; 
French War, 1S7, 372, T,y], ; Lycll's visit, 
450. (See America, United States.) 

Canals, Wedgwood's aid in developing, 163. 

Capital punishment, in England, 243-245. 

Cassilis, Earl of: relation to Buchanan, 9; to 
Burnet. 35. 

Catholic Church : relation to Buchanan, 9-1 1 ; 
Europe, 14 ; in Shakspeare's day, 14-16 ; the 
Milton family, 25 ; aid derived from art, 
16S ; European sway, 1S2; Declaration of 
Indulgence, 222-226 ; Penn's plea for toler- 
ance, 236 ; Whitbread's charity, 24S, 249 ; 
Father Mathew's adherence, 3 15-31 9 ; Roger 
Bacon's, 329-333 ; Sir Thomas More's, 347, 
349 ; Russell's opposition, 362-366. 

Caxton, William: art of printing, 137, 13S ; 
birthplace, family, 139 ; apprenticed in 
London, mission to the Continent, 140; 
begins his trade in England, rare Caxtons, 
death. 141. 

Charles I.: execution, 224; despotism, 356; 
relations to Hampden, 357-360; patronage 
of Harvey, 37S-380. 

Charles II. : relations to Burnet, 35; epitaph, 
St, ; relations to Wren, 144, 14; : Ken, 224 ; 
the Penns, 233, 234 ; Lord Russell, 362- 
366. 

Chaucer, Geoffrey : earliest records, 3 ; mar- 
riage, places, pensions, 4 ; grave, genius, 
health, 5 ; love of nature, 6 ; influence upon 
the English language, 7: allusion. 1 . 

Chemistry : Raleigh's interest, 1S4 ; Roger 
Bacon's studies, 332 ; discussions, 379 ; 



INDEX. 



509 



Davy's sen-ice, 427-430; Faraday's, 430- 
436 ; Edison's interest, 467. (See Alchemy.) 

Christmas: Chaucer's enjoyment, 6; Faraday's 
lectures, 433. 

Civil War, American : relation to slavery, 264, 
265 ; Lincoln's connection, 26S-274. (See 
United States, Slavery, etc.) 

Clubs : Campbell's opinion of debating, 89 ; 
Oxford Scientific, 143. 

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor : intimacy with 
Southey, 79; association with Lamb, S1-S7; 
socialistic ideas, 121; opposition to Madras 
system, 279. 

Columbus, Christopher: explorers, 175; birth- 
place, parentage, education, early adven- 
tures, 176: grand project, 177; finally en- 
dorsed by Spain, 17S; America discovered, 
179 ; enemies, misfortunes, iSo : death, bur- 
ial in Havana, the name America, 1S1. 

Conformity and Non-conformity: Burnet on, 
35' 37 i Penn's attitude, 234-240. (See Re- 
ligion, Catholic Church, etc.) 

Cook, James : Pacific Islands, 1S5 ; birthplace, 
parentage, 1S6 ; boyhood, nautical promo- 
tion, South Seas, 1S7 ; ships, voyages. iSS ; 
death, 1S9 ; his friend Forster, 391. 

Cotton : influence over slavery, 26S, 405 ; man- 
ufacture, 401-404 ; culture and gin, 404-40S; 
gin, 4S0. (See Slaverv, United States, 
Wilberforce.) 

Cowper, William : translations, 61 ; place in 
literature, 62 ; birthplace, parentage, cruel 
schooling, 63 ; insanity, work, 64 ; poetry, 
philanthropy, 65 ; religion, 66. 

Cromwell, Oliver : relation to Milton, 29 ; 
message to Wren, 142 ; body desecrated, 
224; religion in bravery, 306; cousin to 
Hampden, 3 59 ; allusion, 369. 



Daguerre, Louis Jacques M. : allusion, 
429, Arago's announcement, 4S9 ; simulti- 
neous inventions, birthplace, early experi- 
ments, 491 ; reward of success, death, subse- 
quent improvements, 492 ; usefulness, 493. 

Dante : Flaxman's outlines, 16S ; allusion, 211 ; 
quoted by Humboldt, 395. 

Darling, Grace : sea dangers near Fame 
Island, 299 ; home, father, 300 ; birthplace, 
schoolroom, womanhood, 301 ; wreck, res- 
cue, 302 ; honors, 303 ; modesty, 304. 

Davy, Sir Humphry : association with 
Southey, 79 ; birthplace, parentage, educa- 
tion, surgery, 427 ; inventions, discoveries, 
428 ; heat, 429 ; journeys, degrees, marriage, 
death, 430 ; Faraday's friendship, 430-436 ; 
discovery of ether, 500. 

Death, desire for, 5. (See allusions to special 
Deaths in nearly every Essay.) 

Dickens, Charles : future appreciation, 102 ; 
humanity, 103 ; moral purpose, 104 ; par- 



entage, childhood, 105 ; powers of obser- 
vation, 106 ; Pickwick, 107 ; satires on cock- 
neyism, 108 ; editorship, 109 ; sympathy, 
high aims, no; death, in. 

Dissenters : honors to Bunyan, 34 ; treatment 
in England, 234. (See Religion, Roman 
Catholicism, English Church, etc.) 

Drama. (See Theatre.) 

Dryden. John : on Milton, 30 ; his relations to 
Addison, 39, 41. 



E. 



Edgeworth, Maria: reputation, family, 69 ; 
birthplace, genius, education, 70 ; stories, 
71 : wit, Irish Tales, 72 ; contemporaries, j^ > 
place in literature, 74. 

Edinburgh : honors to Buchanan, n ; Burnet's 
birthplace, 34 ; Adam Smith's professor- 
ship. 51; Goldsmith's studies, 57; Scott's 
birthplace, 75 ; Campbell at, 89, 90 ; Burns's 
life in, 114; Mrs. Stowe's visit, 133, 134; 
Ben. Franklin's visit, 344 ; Miller's residence, 
454-457; A. G. Bell's father's residence, 
504. (See Scotland.) 

Edison, Thomas Alva : rank, early life, 466 ; 
boyish inventions, 467 ; progressive discov- 
eries. 46S ; turning-point, factory, 469 ; suc- 
cess, patents, multiplied currents, marriage, 
470; phonograph, Menlo Park, carbon tele- 
phone, 471; megaphone, 472; electric light, 
473: 474; fame, 475 . 

Education : Hannah More's charity, 6S, 69 ; 
Mrs. Jameson's interest, 94, 97 ; Madras 
system, 274-2S6 ; Andrew Bell's work, 274- 
2S0 ; Lancaster's, 27S-2S6 ; Maurice's influ- 
ence, 290-294 ; Charles Kingsley's interest, 
291, 292 ; Locke's theory, 336 ; Corporal 
punishment in the Hill school at Hazlewood, 
443. (See allusions to the Education of 
different men in each Essay.) 

Electricity: Ben. Franklin's discoveries, 343; 
Davy"s, 42S ; Wheatstone's, 458-462 ; Stein- 
heil's, 460, 461, 463 ; Morse's, 460-465 ; Edi- 
son's, 466-475 ; A. G. Bell's, 501-506. 

Elizabeth, Queen: relations to Buchanan, n; 
Shakspeare, 16, 24 ; Raleigh, 1S2-1S5 , 
slavery in America, 267 ; pride in Sidney, 
351-355; ship-money, 357; science in her 
reign, 379. (See English Church, etc.) 

England: in Chaucer's da}', 3; Shakspeare's 
16, 18 ; Bunyan's, 30 ; Campbell's influence, 
87; Hawthorne's residence, 123 ; Mrs. Stowe's 
visit, 135 ; art of printing, 13S-142 ; Handel's 
life, 152-157; Hogarth's influence, 157-162; 
Flaxman's art-influence, 165-171 ; proposal 
of Columbus, 177; Raleigh's services, 182- 
1S5 ; Captain Cook's, 187-189; Howard's 
209-211 ; treatment of lunatics, 214; stir 
created by Declaration of Indulgence, 222- 
226 ; general regard for Heber, 227-232 ; 
Wilberforce's patriotism and work for free- 
dom, 251-255 ; Garrison's visits, 265; An- 



5io 



INDEX. 



drew Bell's system of education, 274-2S0 ; 
Lancaster's, 2S0-2S6 ; Maurice's influence in 
education, 290-294; Selwyn's influence, 295- 
29S ; coast-dangers, 299-302 ; a glowing his- 
toric page, 307, 30S ; Father Mathew's 
Temperance work, 318 ; Newton's glory, 327 ; 
Revolution, 33S ; Ben. Franklin's visits, 342- 
344 ; service of Sir Thomas More, 346-350 ; 
age of Sidney, 350-356 ; troubles in time of 
Charles I., 356-360; of Charles II., 361- 
366 ; war in and with the colonies, 371-374 ; 
travels of Linna:us, 3S7 ; Humboldt's visit, 
^91, 395; influence, 394; Eddystone light- 
house, 396-401 ; Arkwright's connection 
with the factory system, 401-404; consump- 
tion of cotton, 405 ; Watt's scientific influ- 
ence, 40S-411; wrecks and lifeboats, 421- 
425 ; Davy's service to science, 427-430 ; 
Faraday's, 430-436 ; Brewster's, 437-440 ; 
Hill's postal service, 441-447 ; Lyell's ser- 
vice, 447-452; Miller's Impressions, 457 ; 
Wheatstone~'s service in telegraphy, 456-462 ; 
Howe's patents, 469 ; tribute to American 
inventions, 480 ; McCormick's inventims, 
4S5-4S9 ; attempts at photography, 490 ; 
ether, 49S, 500, 501. 

English Church : Burnet's connection with, 
37, 3S ; Adam Smith's, 50 ; Goldsmith's, 
56 ; Dr. Wren's, 142 ; effect of the Declara- 
tion of Indulgence, 222-226 ; Heber's con- 
nection, 227-232 ; Penn's relation, 234 ; An- 
drew Bell"s, 275-279 ; Maurice's connection, 
290-294 ; Selwyn's, 295-298 ; William Dar- 
ling's membership, 300 ; a Temperance pio- 
neer in, 315 ; Locke's connection, 335 ; in 
time of Charles I., 356-360. 

English Language: in Chaucer's day, 6, 7; 
Gray's poem, 48 ; Goldsmith's prose, 61 ; 
enriched by Campbell, 87; Longfellow's 
simplicity, 125 ; elements in Kent, 119; 
Lincoln's use, 270. (There are allusions to 
this subject in many other Essays.) 

Essays : Addison's, 40-42 ; Hannah More's, 
67 ; Maria Edgeworth's, 70 ; Southey's, 80 ; 
Lamb's, S2, 85, 87 ; Mrs. Jameson's, 92-97 ; 
Hawthorne's, 119; Hogarth's, 160; Penn's, 
240; Romilly's, 242-244 ; Clarkson's, 2S1 ; 
Lancaster's. 2S2 ; Burritt's, 289 ; Maurice's, 
291 ; Roger Bacon's, 329, 333 ; Locke's, 335- 
339 ; Leibnitz's, 338 ; Ben. Franklin's, 342 ; 
Brewster's, 438-440; Hill's, 443-447 ; Lyell's, 
44S-451; Miller's, 452-457; Wheatstone's, 
45S-462. (Allusions to this subject may be 
found in other Essays.) 

Eton: Gray's connection, 47; Selwyn's, 29S. 

Europe. (See England, Italy, etc.) 

Evil. (See Good.) 

Excise : Chaucer the comptroller of, 4 ; Adam 
Smith, commissioner, 53 ; Burns's office, 
115; Hawthorne's, 121-123 ; Greatluad's, 
423. 

Explorations: Boone's, in the West, 195-201 ; 
Livingstone's, 201-206 ; Stanley's, 204. 206. 
(See also Columbus, Humboldt, Lyell, etc.) 



Faraday, Michael : way prepared by Davy, 
42S, 430; letter to Davy, 430; friendship, 
book-binding, 431 ; contrivances, lectures, 
marriage, 432; electricity, chemistry, benzole, 
433 ; magnetic experiments, 434 ; old ideas 
and new, 435 ; preaching, memory, death, 
lessons, 436; discoveries in electricity, 463. 

Fiction : Goldsmith's efforts, 58 ; Hannah 
More's Caslebs, 68 ; Miss Edgeworth's sto- 
ries, 71-74; Fielding's and Smollett's, 75, 
104; Scott's, 75-77,104; Lamb's, 84, 85 ; 
Mrs. Jameson's, 92, 93 ; Hood's, 100 ; Dick- 
ens's, 102-111 ; Victor Hugo's, 105 : Mrs. 
Stowe's, 105 ; Hawthorne's, 11 6-1 24 ; L< ng- 
fellow's poetic, 126; prose, 129; Uncle 
Tom's Cabin, 131-137 ; Miller's tales. 4;;. 

Fielding, Henry : stones, 74 ; compared with 
Dickens, 104; with Burns, 113. 

Flaxman, John : genius, 165 ; physique, birth- 
place, congenial boyhood, 166 ; friends, 
student-life, disappointment, 167 ; early 
works, marriage, Rome, 168 ; Italian studies, 
establishment in London, 169 ; modern and 
ideal subjects, wife's death, 170; blemishes, 
death, 171. 

Flowers, allusions in Shakspeare, 13, 1S-20. 

Fox, Charles James : friend of Campbell, 90 ; 
comparison with Whi thread, 249-251 ; ora- 
tory, 253, 254 ; on the martyrdom of Russell 
and Sidney. 365. 

France: Chaucer in, 3, 4 ; Reformation. 9-1 1 ; 
in Shakspeare's day, 15, 16 ; Milton's 
travels, 26 : Burnet's, 34 ; Addison's, 39 ; 
Adam Smith's, 53; Miss Edgeworth's, 70; 
threatened invasion of England, 90 ; Mrs. 
Jameson's residence, 95, 96 ; art of printing, 
13S ; Wren's study in Paris, 145.; Raleigh's 
military service, 1S4 ; Canadian War, 187 ; 
war in the West, 195, 199; Howard a pris- 
oner, 209; good influence of Revolution, 
212: services of Pinel, ?n-2iS; prisons 
visited by Mrs. Fry, 221 ; Penn's retirement, 
234 ; Romilly's residence, 242 ; war with, 
249; Siege of Paris, 315; Roger Bacon's 
visits, 329, 330 ; Ben. Franklin's embassy, 
340, 345 ; Sidney in Paris during the St 
Bartholomew Massacre, 351 ; American colo- 
nial plans and troubles, 372, 373; visits of 
Linnaeus, 3S7, 38S ; of Humboldt, 392, 394, 
395; Fulton's visit, 413, 414; honors to 
Brewster, 437-439 ; Fresnel's optical labors, 
43S ; Lyell's explorations, 44S : telegraphy, 
460; Wheatstone's reputation, 461 ; Eo 
474 ; Howe's patents, 47S ; McCormick's 
inventions, 486 ; Daguerre's service to science, 
4S9-493 ; ether, 49S. 

Franciscans : relation to Buchanan, 9 ; Roger 
P.acon, 329, 330, 332. 

Franklin, Benjamin : autobiography, trade, 339 ; 
contrast between early and latter days, 340 ; 
the Second American, parentage, meagre 
schooling, 341 ; drudgery, trip to London, 



INDEX. 



511 



342 ; marriage, kite experiment, public offices, 
343 : honorary degrees, exposure of Governor 
Hutchinson, 344 ; Court of France, Revolu- 
tionary service, death, epitaph, 345 ; character, 
346. 

Franklin, Sir John : allusion, iSS ; imprisoned 
crews, 1S9; braver}', Parry's tribute, 190; 
new expedition, marriages, disappearance, 
191 ; attempted rescues, 192 ; discoveries, 
poetic tribute, 193-195. 

Fry, Elizabeth : woman's mission, 218 ; com- 
passion for outcasts, birthplace, parentage, 
219; defective education, London life, mar- 
riage, motherhood, prison work, 220 ; Con- 
tinental prisons, 221. 

Fulton, Robert: estimate of Arkwright, etc., 
404; steam-travel, 412; rare mind, Euro- 
pean experiences, association with Chancellor 
Livingstone, 413 ; successful experiments, 
414 ; trial trip on the Hudson, 415 ; news- 
paper letter, 416 ; allusion, 466. (See 
Steam.) 

G. 

Garrick, David : relations to Goldsmith, 
59 ; Hannah More, 67 ; epitaph on Hogarth, 
161. 

Garrison, William LI oyd : allusion, 131, 132 ; 
power of truth, 255 ; sluggishness of reforms, 
birthplace, apprenticeship, 256 ; printer's 
trade, first literary efforts, mother's death, 
257 ; Abolition papers, 258 ; libel suit, Balti- 
more, imprisonment, 259 ; release, The 
Liberator, 260 ; Southern enmity, Coloniza- 
tion Society-, 261 ; New York mob, Phila- 
delphia Convention, 262 ; Boston mob, 263 ; 
Whittier's friendship, Civil War, 264 ; peace 
principles, Southern tour, English visits, 
265 ; character, death, funeral, 266. 

Genius : Dickens's, 106 ; Hawthorne's, 116, 
117; Longfellow's, 125; Hogarth's, 157- 
161; Wedgwood's, 164; Flaxman's, 165, 
166, 171 ; law of, 350 ; true, 417 ; Brewster's, 
440; in every age, 466; Howe's, 476, 479. 
(See also several other Essays.) 

Geography: Lyell's studies, 449-451 ; Miller's 
maps, 454 ; Jedediah Morse's works, 462. 

Geology: Lyell's Investigations, 448-451; 
Miller's, 452-457. (See Bible, Science.) 

Germany : Reformation, 14 ; Burnet's travels, 
36, 27 ! Addison's, 40 ; Scott's, 77 ; Camp- 
bell's, 89, 90 ; Mrs. Jameson's residence, 93, 
95, 98; art of printing, 137, 138, 141; 
Caxton's sojourn, 140, 141 ; Handel's birth- 
place and influence, 150-157; treatment of 
the insane, 213, 214; prisons visited by Mrs. 
Fry, 221 ; Heber's travels, 228 ; Sidney's, 
351; embassy, 352; botany, 383; Hum- 
boldt's career, 390-396 ; Davy's travels, 42S, 
430 ; Lyell's explorations, 448 ; McCormick's 
inventions, 486 ; ether, 498. (See also ref- 
erences to travel in other Essays. ) 

Glasgow : Burnet's professorship, 35 ; Adam 



Smith's connection with University, 50-52 ; 
Campbell's birthplace and University connec- 
tion, 87, SS, 91 ; Watt's residence, 40S, 409. 
(See Scotland.) 

God : Locke on the existence of, 336 ; true 
service, 346. (See Religion, etc.) 

Goldsmith, Oliver : poetry compared with 
Addison's, 3S ; birthplace, childhood, train- 
ing, 55 ; education, wanderings in Ireland, 
56 ; benevolence, travels, 57 ; literary life, 
improvidence, 5S ; dramatic success, 59 ; 
works, death, characteristics, 60; genius, 61. 

Good: contest with evil, Flaxman's ideal, 
169, 170; of society, 175. 

Gray, Thomas : poetry compared with Addi- 
son's, 38 ; works, education, travels, 47 ; 
classic notes, correspondence, Elegy, 4S. 

Greathead, Henry : claims, 421 ; shipwreck, 
designs for life-boats, 422 ; epitaph to 
Wouldhave, Lukin's death, Greathead's 
parentage, 423 ; apprenticeship, boat-build- 
ing, 424 ; awards, the rescue, bankruptcy, 
death, 425 ; name unknown, best monument, 
life-boats to-day, 426. 

Greece : Isles of, 1S5 ; ancient courage, 307 ; 
age of Pericles, 350 ; botany, 383. 

Greek Language : Gray's notes, 48 ; transla- 
tions by Cowper and others, 61, 62 ; Flax- 
man's interest, 166-168 ; Heber's proficiency, 
232 ; influence of scholarship in Roger 
Bacon's day, 32S, 330. (See Homer, Latin.) 

Gunpowder: introduced, 3, 14; Plot, 26; 
Roger Bacon's discovery, 332. 



H. 



Hall, S. C. : on Father Mathew, 316-319; 
on Stephenson, 420, 421. 

Hampden, John : despotism under Charles I., 
356 ; parentage, education, marriage, ship- 
money, 357; patriotism, trial, opposition 
leader, 358 ; expected exile, Long Parlia- 
ment, 359 ; death in battle, grandeur. 360 ; 
allusion, 369. 

Handel, George Frederick : music an aid to 
benevolence, 149 ; birthplace, childhood's 
bent, 150 ; education, early compositions, 
151 ; independence, travels, 152 ; in Eng- 
land, patronized by Chandos, 153 ; oratorios, 
director of Royal Academy, 154; Messiah, 
last days, 155; blindness, burial, 156; 
self-consciousness, 157. 

Harvey, Dr. William : birthplace, education, 
studies in Italy, 377 ; great discovery, de- 
liberation, 378 ; discussions, 379 ; opposi- 
tion, royal physician, conflagration, 3S0 ; 
death, honors, 381. 

Havelock, Sir Henry -. bravery in India, 304 ; 
soldier and Christian, law-studies, 305 ; Bur- 
mese War, 306 ; relief of Lucknow, 307 ; 
Whittier's tribute, calmness, death, 30S ; 
life-lessons, character, coldness, 309. 

Hawthorne, Nathaniel : the man and his 



512 



INDEX. 



work, 1 1 6 ; birthplace, ancestry, 117; boy- 
hood, education, singularity, 11S; class- 
mates, first efforts, 119; slow success, 120; 
office-holding, Brook Farm, 121 ; marriage, 
the Old Manse, Salem life, 122 ; authorship, 
Lenox, European travels, 123; death, 124; 
Longfellow's classmate, 127. 

Hazlitt. William : estimate of Southey, 79 ; 
association with Lamb, 85. 

Heber, Reginald : traits, ancestry, birthplace, 
education, 227 ; travels, literary plans, 
marriage, rectorate, 228 ; publications, hon- 
ors, bishopric, 229 : lingual study, arrival in 
India, 230; apostolic devotion, death, 231 ; 
memorials, scholarship, 232. 

Hebrew Language : Burns's knowledge, 34 ; 
Roger Bacon's study, 330. 

Henry VIII.: Reformation, 9; character, 
346, 347 ; relations to Sir Thomas More, 

348-35 - 

Hill, Sir Rowland : perils of travel in the iSth 
century, 441 ; postal increase, birthplace, 
parentage, 442; lectures, Hill school, mar- 
riage, travels, 443 ; cost of postage, franks, 
444 ; evasions of law, new measures urged, 
stamps, 445 ; penny-postage established, 
honors, 446 ; retirement, death, 447. 

Histories : Buchanan's, 1 1 ; Scott's, 76, yy ; 
Southey's lectures, 79 ; life-boats, 423. (Al- 
lusions in other Essays. ) 

Hogarth, William : his pictures compared to 
Dickens's stories, 102, 103 ; the classic in 
art, 157 ; birthplace, early efforts, 15S ; 
marriage, prints, 159; skill, literary work, 

160 ; quarrel with Wilkes, death, tributes, 

161 ; truthfulness in art, 162. 

Holland : Burnet's travels, 34 ; residence, 36 ; 
Goldsmith's sojourn, 57 ; prisons visited by 
Mrs. Fry, 221 ; Ken's visit, 225 ; slavery in 
America, 267 ; Locke's exile, 33S ; Sidney's 
stay, 352 ; honors to Sidney, 355 ; studies of 
Linnseus, 387 ; Humboldt's visit, 391. 

Home : Southey's devotion, 80 ; Dickens's, 
105. 

Homer : ignorance about, 49 ; translations, 
61, 65 ; Southey's study, 78 ; Flaxman's 
interest, 166-16S; influence over Miller, 
453. (See Greek) 

Hood, Thomas: association with Lamb, S5, 
86; mirth, rank, 90; humanity, literary 
fame, 100; death, wife, 101 ; poems, 102; 
influence over Dickens, 106 ; Song of the 
Shirt, 475. 

Howard, John : relations to his son, character, 
parentage, marriages, voyage to Lisbon, 
209; prison investigations, 210; service 
throughout Europe, death, 211 ; allusions, 
212, 218, 221. 

Howe, Elias: the working-women, 475; prior 
attempts to sew by machinery, 476; birth- 
place, marriage, the first sewing-machine, 
477 ; lockstitch, sojourn in England, pov- 
erty, lawsuits, 478 ; victory, military life, 
death, 479. 



Huguenots : in Shakspeare's day, 16 ; Raleigh's 
aid, 1S4 ; St. Bartholomew, 351. (See 
Religion, etc.) 

Humanity: Hood's, 100, 102; Dickens's, 103- 
iii ; Longfellow's interest in, 125, 1 
Howard's, 209-211; Pinel's, 211-218 ; Mrs, 
Fry's, 218-221; Wilberforce's, 252-255; 
illustrated in Garrison's career, 255-266 ; 
Lincoln's, 272-274 ; Bell's, 274-279 ; Lan- 
caster's, 280-2S6 ; Burritt's, 2S8, 289 ; Mau- 
rice's, 290-294 ; Selwyn's, 295-29S ; Grace 
Darling's, 300-304; George Moore's, 314, 
315 ; Father Mathcw's, 315-319 ; Ben. 
Franklin's, 345 ; Sidney's, 354, 355 ; Smea- 
ton's service, 400, 401; life-boats, 421-425; 
safety-lamp, 429; scwing-maclvne, 475-479; 
ether, 493-501. 

Humboldt, Alexander von : Arctic description, 
compared with that by Linnasus, 386 ; great 
travellers, parentage, education. Campe, 390; 
study, home, travels, appointments, 391 ; 
Galvani, friendship for Bonpland, -392 ; 
South America, 393 ; United States, transla- 
tions, 394 ; Personal Narrative, residence in 
Berlin, further travels, 395 ; Kosmos, death, 
396. 

Hume, David : Adam Smith's respect, 51-53; 
on Russell's trial, 363. 



I. 



Immortality : Locke's belief, 336 ; Ben. 
Franklin's epitaph, 344. 

India: Heber's labors, 229-232; Andrew Bell's 
educational work, 275-280 ; Ilavelock's ca- 
reer, 304-309. 

Indians, North American : Boone's troubles, 
196-198; Penn's treaty, 238-240; Black 
Hawk war, 271 ; Marshman's colleges, 2S6 ; 
Washington's acquaintance, 371, 372. (See 
America, etc. ) 

Industry: Wedgwood's, 162; Heber's, 231; 
Selwyn's, 297 ; Father Mathew's, 31 8 ; New- 
ton's, 324, 325 ; Roger Bacon's, 330 ; Ben. 
Franklin's, 342-345; Linnreus's, 381- 387 J 
Humboldt's, 390-396 ; Arkwright's, 403 ; 
Fulton's, 413, 414; Stephenson's, 416-420; 
Davy's, 427-430; Faraday's, 431-436; 
Brewster's, 4 ^8-440 ; Hill's, 4.(1-447 ; Lyell's, 
447-452; Miller's, 454-457 : Morse's, 463- 
465 ; Edison's, 466-475 ; productive, 476 ; 
Howe's, 477; in United States, 4S0 ; Mc- 
Cormick's, 4S2-4S9 ; Daguerre's, 491 ; A. G. 
Bell's, 504-506. (See allusions in other 
Essays. ) 

Inquisition, in Shakspeare's day, 14. 

Insanity : Cowper's, 64-66 ; Lamb's, 83 ; Mary 
Lamb's, 84, 85 ; Howard's son's, 209 ; Pinel's 
reform in the treatment of, 211, 218; Miller's 
death, 457. 

Ireland: Goldsmith's experiences in, 55-57 ; 
Miss Edgeworth's tales, 72, 73 ; Southey's 
sojourn, 79 ; Mrs. Jameson's birthplace, 92 ; 



INDEX. 



513 



Handel's visit, 155 ; Raleigh's military 
service, 184 ; Perm's visit, 235 ; Grattan, 
254 ; Burritt's aid in relieving, 2SS ; George 
Moore's visit, 313; offer to Locke, 335; 
Davy's visit, 430 ; McCormick's ancestry, 
482. 

Italy: in Shakspeare's day, 15; Milton's 
travels, 26 ; Gray's, 47 ; Goldsmith's, 5 7 ; 
Scott's, 77 ; Mrs. Jameson's residence, 95^98 ; 
Hawthorne's travels, 123; art of printing, 
13S ; Handel's reception, "15 2 ; mediaeval art, 
165, 16S ; Flaxman's sojourn, 168, 169; 
ancient and modern sculpture, 169 ; nativity 
of Columbus, 176, 177 ; brilliant age, 351; 
Harvey's studies, ^yy • botany, 383 ; Hum- 
boldt's visit, 392 ; Davy's travels, 430 ; 
Lyell's explorations, 448 ; McCormick's 
inventions, 486 ; camera obscura, 490. 

Italian Literature: in Shakspeare's day, 15 ; 
Southey's interest, 78; influence over Sid- 
ney's style, 353. 

J- 

Jackson, Charles T. : aid in telegraphy, 462 ; 
claim to the discovery of ether, 494-501. 

James I. (VI.) : relations to Buchanan, 10 ; 
Shakspeare, 24 ; Raleigh, 182-185 ; epitaph 
on Sidney, 355 ; patronage of Harvey, 3S0. 

James II.: relation to Milton, 27 ; to Burnet, 
36 ; Wren, 145 ; Declaration of Indulgence, 
222-226 ; opposition to his succession, 362. 

Jameson, Anna Brownell : her interest in life, 
birthplace, parentage, education, 92 ; mar- 
riage, first efforts, travels, 93 ; art-interest, 
ocean voyage, 94 ; residence in Canada and 
Germany, 95 ; works on Religion in Art, 96 ; 
magazina and educational labor, sorrow, 97 ; 
sojourn in Italy, death, 98. 

Johnson, Samuel : his poetry, compared with 
Addison's, 38 ; picture, 42 ; filial atonement, 
prejudices, 44 ; satire, unselfishness, 45 ; 
marriage, manhood, 46 ; Adam Smith's rela- 
tions, 51, 52, 54 ; Goldsmith's, 58-60 ; recog- 
nition of Cowper, 64 ; of Hannah More, 66. 

Jonson, Ben: allusions, 17, 22, 24;' age, 350; 
epitaph on Sidney's sister, 352. 



K. 



Kensal Green Cemetery : Mrs. Jameson's 

grave, 98 ; Hood's, 99. 
Ken, Thomas : the Declaration of Indulgence, 

222 ; protest of the bishops, and their arrest, 

223 ; acquittal, incidents of his career, 224 ; 
pastoral faithfulness, loyalty, 225 ; ejection 
from his See, hymns, death, 226. 



Lamb, Charles : association with Southey, 
79 ; portraits, 81 ; birthplace, education, 



early literary influences, 82 ; c'erkships, 
schemes, insanity, 83 ; family, stories, 84 ; 
dramas, essays, 85 ; magazine-work, wit, 
86 ; death, literary rank, 87 ; Hawthorne's 
model, 117 ; opinion of Hogarth, 157. 

Lancaster, Joseph : an innovator in educa- 
tion, 27S-280 ; birthplace, parentage, West 
Indian trip, dame schools, 281 ; first free 
schools, 282 ; slow growth, Madras system, 
Training College, self-sacrifice, 283 ; fame, 
corporal punishment, 284 ; patronage of 
the king, friends, 2S5 ; faults, Bible teach- 
ing, 2S6. 

Latin Language : Buchanan's proficiency, 8, 
,10, 11; Burnet's lectures, 35; Addison's 
writings, 30, 40 ; Gray's verse, 47 ; Southey's 
interest, 78 ; Bible printed, 13S ; Wren's 
epistle, 143; Handel's study, 150; Flax- 
man's interest in Virgil, 166 ; Columbus's 
study, 176; Heber's poetry, 227; Romilly's 
translations, 242 ; element in English lan- 
guage, 270; Roger Bacon's study, 330, 331; 
language of science, 7,77 ; Harvey's works, 
381; botany, 383; knowledge of Linnaeus, 
388. 

Lectures : Heber's, 229 ; Sir Thomas More's, 
347 ; Linnaeus's, 386 ; Davy's, 430, 431 ; 
Faraday's, 432-435 ; Hill's mathematical, 
443 ; Buckland's, 447. 

Leibnitz, Gottfried: association with Wren, 
143 ; great essay, 338. 

Liberty; Miltonic devotion, 25-27; religious, 
in England, 222-226 ; Wilbertorce's devotion, 
2S2-255 ; Garrison's career, 255-266 ; of the 
will, 337; Sir Thomas More's sentiments, 
347, 348 ; struggle in reign of Charles I., 356- 
360; of Charles II., 361-366; Washington's 
service, 373, 374. 

Lichfield : Johnson's birthplace, 45 ; Selwyn, 
bishop of, 298. 

Life : Chaucer's delight, contrasted with modern 
weariness, 5 ; Mrs. Jameson's interest, 92. 

Light : Newton's discoveries, 324 ; Brewster's, 
437, 438 ; electric, 472-475 ; speed compared 
with electricity, 503. 

Lincoln, Abraham: allusion, 252; proclama- 
tion, 265 ; self-made men, bondage in Amer- 
ica, 267 ; slavery and the laws, 268 ; Free 
Soil party, election, birthplace, parentage, 
269 ; books, education, ready speech, manual 
labor, 270 ; clerkship, reading, bar, 271 ; 
stand for freedom, 272 ; inauguration, war, 
second election, 273 ; assassination, charac- 
ter, enduring work, 274. 

Linnaeus (Karl Linne) : birthplace, family, 
name, 381 ; the manse, boyish experiments, 
382 ; natural history, old books, 383 ; ancient 
guides in botany, schooling, 384; teaching, 
friendship of Celsius, 385 : sex in plants, 
Northern survey, lectures, 386 ; obstacles, 
graduation, travels, 387 ; anecdotes, pros- 
perity, marriage, 388 ; royal patronage, ill- 
ness, death, Whewell's tribute, 389. (See 
Botany.) 



5H 



INDEX. 



Livingstone, David: honors, steady career, 201 ; 
character, reception in Africa, privations, 
202 ; wife's death, sickness, 203 ; death, 
burial, piety, 204; ambition, journeys, 205; 
Stanley's arrival, 206 ; devotion to truth, 252. 

Locke, John : false reasoning, 333 ; opinions, 
birthplace, 334 ; ancestry, eduction, medical 
studies, secretaryship, fame, 335 ; philosophy 
of Innate Ideas, 336; great purpose, 337; 
exile, return, 338 ; death, 339. 

Logic : Roger Bacon's opinions, 329 ; in gen- 
eral, 333, 334. 

London : Chaucer's enjoyment, 6 ; Buchanan 
in, 9 ; stage in Shakspeare's day, 17, 22 ; his 
life there, 23, 24 ; Milton's residence, 26 ; 
Johnson and the poor, 45, 46 ; Goldsmith's 
life, 56-60 ; Hannah More's residence, 67 ; 
Southey's law-studies, 79 ; Lamb's residence, 
81-86; Dickens's pictures, 107-109; Cax- 
ton's apprenticeship, 140 ; printing-press, 
141 ; Wren's works, 144-148 ; Great Fire, 
144, 148; Hogarth's art, 1 58-161 ; Flax- 
man's sculpture, 1 69-1 71 ; Livingstone's 
presence, 201-204; Mrs. Fry's gayety, 220; 
stir created by the Protest of the Seven 
Bishops, 222-226; Penn's birthplace, 233; 
Romilly's birthplace and work, 241, 242; 
George Moore's life, 311-315 ; Ben. Frank- 
lin's sojourns, 342, 344 ; Sidney's burial, 355 ; 
visit of Linnseus, 387 ; Watt's residence, 408 ; 
Greathead's, 421, 425 ; dangers of journey- 
ing, 441 ; cost of postage, 444 ; honors to 
Hill. Lyell's residence, 447 ; Wheatstone's 
business, 458-462 ; Morse's residence, 462 ; 
McCormick at World's Fair, 485, 486. (See 
England.) 

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth : Hawthorne's 
classmate, 11S, 120, 124; Cardinal Wise- 
man's opinion, simplicity, 125 ; stories in 
verse, 126; ancestry, birthplace, schooling, 
127; college life, marriage, Bowdoin anni- 
versary, 128 ; professorship, poetry, Wash- 
ington house, 129 ; European reputation, 
second marriage, death, 130; personality, 

Louis X IV. : famous saying, 200 ; Penn at 
Court, 234 ; age, 350. 

Low Countries: Raleigh's service, 184; Sid- 
ney's aid, 354, 355. (See Holland.) 

Lowell, James Russell : friend of Hawthorne, 
124; tribute to Garrison, 261. 

Lyell, Sir Charles : parentage, education, 447 ; 
travels, literary works, 448 ; peculiar opinions, 
quotation, 449 ; geologic theories, American 
travels, works, 450; second visit to United 
States, new books, honors, marriage, death, 
451 ; burial, 452. 



M, 



Macau lay, T. B. : opinion of Bunyan, 30, 
31 ; Addison, 39; estimation of Miss Edge- 
worth, 72, 73 ; compared with Lamb, 87 ; 



opinion of Ken, 225 ; opposed to coloniza- 
tion of negroes, 262 ; estimate of the cotton- 
gin, 404. 

Magazines: Lamb's contributions, 85 ; Camp- 
bell's, 91 ; Mrs. Jameson's, 96, 97 ; 1 
100; Dickens's, 108, 109; Hawthorne's, 119; 
Longfellow's, 127; Mrs. Stowe's, 1 -/>, 137; 
Sala's, 15S; Maurice's, 291: Punch's trib- 
ute to Selwyn, 295 ; Edinburgh Review 
on Hill, 446 ; Lyell's papers, 44S-451 ; 
Miller's articles, 454-457; A. G. Bell's ac- 
count of himself, 505. (See Newspapers.) 

Mary Stuart: relations to Buchanan, 10, 11 ; 
in Shakspeare's day, 15, 16. 

Mathematics : Mercator's, 325 ; discussions in 
Harvey's time, 379; Hill's lectures and 
ability, 442, 443. (See Science.) 

Mathew, Theobald : small beginnings of Tem- 
perance, 315 ; Hall's description, former con- 
dition of Ireland, 316; changes wrought by 
Temperance, 317; travels, work, death, 318 ; 
lasting benefit, 319. 

Maurice, Frederic Denison : his son's expected 
biography, 2S9; education, Working Man's 
College, 290; interest in the poor, 291 ; edu- 
cation of lower classes, writings, 292 ; objects 
and methods of the college, 293 ; its inde- 
pendence, Maurice's death, 294. 

McCormick, Cyrus Hall : fifteen American in- 
ventions, 480 ; grain-harvesting, prior efforts, 
481; birthplace, father, 482; reaper, other 
inventions, financial ruin, 483 ; patents, 484 ; 
services in the West, World's Fair, 485 ; 
international expositions, honors, marriage, 
family, 486; use of wealth, workshops, 4S7 ; 
Western fertility, character, 4S8. 

Medicine : advance in science, 377-3S1 ; Davy's 
study, 427 ; Morton's service, 493-501 ; Jack- 
son's, 494-501. (Lesser allusions in some 
other Essays.) 

Miller, Hugh : ancestry, traits, second-sight, 
452 ; birthplace, relatives, schools, 453 ; acci- 
dents, waywardness, early writings, appren- 
ticeship, 454 ; mason-work, ill health, poetry, 
45; ; clerkship, marriage, bereavement, jour- 
nalism, 456: Scotch Church, English travels, 
offices, suicide, 457. 

Millionnaires: exceptional, 8; Howe, 479; Mc- 
Cormick, 4S7-489. 

Milton, John : allusion, 6 ; childhood, parent- 
age, 25 ; education, travels, 26 ; p litical 
bravery, 27 ; marriage, blindness, 28 ; secre- 
taryship, authorship, death, 29, 30; igno- 
rance about, 49; the future Milton, 186; 
praises Sidney's verse, 353. 

Moore, George: a self made man. ancestry, 
mother's death, 310 ; schooling, apprentice- 
ship, bad habits, 311 ; London clerkship, 
first love, accusation of theft, 312; commer- 
cial traveller, partnership, 313; marriage, 
lace-factory, generous deeds, 314; Siege of 
Paris, accidental death, epitaph, 315. 

More, Hannah: reputation, family, birthplace, 
education, 66 ; marriage disappointment, 



INDEX. 



515 



essays, 67 ; charity schools, tracts, 6S ; gen- 
erosity, death, talents, 69 : Lamb's pun, 86. 

More, Sir Thomas : the character of Henry 
VIII., 346: parentage, education, Parliament, 
marriage, works, 347 ; chancellorsliip, integ- 
rity, second marriage, Chelsea residence. 
34S : king's friendship, Reformation, the 
Tower, children, 349 ; execution, 350. 

Morse, Samuel Finley Breese : compared with 
Fulton, 413; competition with Wheatstor.e, 
46a, 461 ; birthplace, parentage, education, 
travels, 462 ; telegraphy, previous discoveries, 
463 ; discouragements, triumph, 464 ; tele- 
graphic communication, the first message, 
465 ; allusion, 466. 

Morton, William T. G. : sudden achievements, 
importunity, 493 ; birthplace, education, 
hospital experiments with ether, 494 ; Tran- 
script notice, concealments, 495 ; revelations, 
operations painful, 496 ; public success, 497 ; 
fame, Dr. Jackson's claim, 49S ; testimony, 
awards, death, 499; professional bigotry, 
Davy's discovery, Wells's claim, 500 ; monu- 
ment, 501. 

Music: Burns's ear, 114; aid to benevolence, 
149, 150; Handel's, 150-157; instrument- 
making, 458. 

N. 

Napoleon Bonaparte: Campbell's influ- 
ence against, 87 ; fame, 218 ; contrasted with 
Wilberforce, 254 ; the Napoleon of Watling 
Street, 313 ; birth-year, 390 ; acquaintance 
with Fulton, 413, 414 ; wars, 425 ; Waterloo, 

43°- 

Nature: Chaucer's love, 6 ; Shakspeare's, 13. 
18, 19-21; Burns's, 114; contributions of 
Linnaeus to natural history, 381-3S9 : Fara- 
day's observance, 432, 436. (See Science.) 

Navigators: Cabot and others, 175, 176; Co- 
lumbus, 175-181 ; Drake, Raleigh, and 
others. 182-185 ; Captain Cook, 185-189. 

Newspapers: none in Shakspeare's day, 17; 
Campbell's contributions, go ; Whitbread's 
defence of freedom, 247, 248 ; Garrison's con- 
nection, 256-265 ; Maurice's, 291 ; Ben. 
Franklin's, 342 ; Fulton's letter, 415 ; Miller's 
work, 455-457 ; Edison's early work, 467 ; on 
McCormick's reaper, 485 ; on ether, 494. 
(See Magazines, Printing.) 

Newton, Sir Isaac : his association with Wren, 
143 : theory of gravitation, mental qualities, 
323 : ideas of light, 324 : mathematical dis- 
coveries, avoidance of error, 325 ; solution of 
difficulties, force, 326 ; birthplace, education, 
death, 327 ; loss by fire, 380 ; contrasted with 
Brewster, 440 ; mother, 442 ; influence over 
Edison, 467. 

New World: in Shakspeare's day, 15 ; Southey's 
colonial project, 79 ; Columbus's discovery, 
175-1S1 ; Raleigh's voyages, 1 S2, 183; Penn's i 
travels and colony, 237-240. (See America, 
United States.) 



o. 



O'Connell, Daniel: estimate of Miss Edge- 
worth, y^ ; Whitbread's defence, 249. 

Operas, Handel's, 151, 152, 154. (See Theatre.) 

Optics : Roger Bacon's studies, 330 ; Brewster's, 
437, 43 s - 

Orange, House of : friendly to Burnet, 36 ; 
Sidney, 351. 

Oratory and Orators : Whitbread and others, 
251 ; Lincoln and Douglas, 272. 

Oxford : Adam Smith at Baliol College, 50, 
5 1 ; Southey also, 78 : Wren at Wadhani 
College, 143, 144; Heber's connection, 227, 
232 ; Penn's, 234, 235 ; Whitbread's, 247 ; 
reverence for Wilberforce, 255 : Maurice's 
connection, 290 ; Roger Bacon's, 330 ; 
Locke's, 335, 339 ; Ben. Franklin's visit, 
344 ; Sir Thomas More's studies, 347 ; 
Sidney's connection, 351 ; Hampden's, 357, 
360 ; Harvey's, 379, 380 ; Lyell at Exeter 
College, 447, 451. (See England.) 



Pacific Islands: Cook's voyages, 1S3-1 89 ; 
Sehvyn's bishopric, 296-298. 

Painting: art, 157-162; Ruskin on modern, 
161; Russell's Trial, 363; Morse's pursuit, 
460; Daguerre's, 491. (See Art.) 

Parliament : Chaucer, 4 ; struggle for freedom, 
26 ; allusion to Milton, 30 ; Burnet's relations, 
36, 37 ; Wren's, 147, 149 ; Sir James Thorn- 
hill, 159; Howard's memorial, 210; insanity 
considered, 214 ; Romilly's work, 242-246 ; 
Whitbread's career, 247-251 ; Wilberforce's 
antislavery action, 253-255 ; relation to Tem- 
perance, 319 ; Hampden's relation to the Long 
Parliament, 355-360; relation to Charles 1. 
and Russell, 362-366 ; George Stephenson, 
41S, 420 ; award to Greathead, 424, 425 ; 
franks, 444, 445. (See England.) 

Peace : Garrison's principles, 265 ; Burritt's 
and Cobden's, 288, 289. 

Peel, Sir Robert : patronizes Southey, So ; 
Selwyn, 296 : living monument, 426. 

Penn, William : birthplace, ancestry, educa- 
tion, 233 ; associates, independence in col- 
lege, 234 ; travels, adherence to the Quakers, 
235 ; authorship, persecution, toleration, 236 ; 
marriage, interest in New World, 237 ; prin- 
ciples, relation to the Indians, 238 ; govern- 
ment of Pennsylvania, later ministry, 239 ; 
literary work, death, memory, 240. 

Pensions : Chaucer's and Burns's, 4 ; Bu- 
chanan's, n ; Addison's, 39, 40; Johnson's, 
45 ; Lamb's, 84, S6 ; Campbell's, 90 : Mrs. 
Jameson's, 97 ; Handel's, 153, 155; Colum- 
bus's, 181. 

Phillips, Wendell : allusion, 132 ; his tribute to 
Garrison, 266. 

Pictures, Hogarth's, 157-162. (See Art, 
Painting.) 



5 i6 



INDEX. 



Pinel, Philippe : treatment of insanity before 
his day, 211, 212; birthplace, parentage, 
education, early bent, 213; absurd and cruel 
treatment of lunatics, 214 ; improvements, 
experiments, 215 ; special cases, 216 ; works, 
character, 217 ; true fame, 21S. 

Pitt, William : popularity, 249-251 ; oratory, 

2 53, 2 54- 

Plato : Gray's notes, 48 ; ignorance about, 49 ; 
Roger Bacon's study, 330. (See Greek.) 

Poetry : Chaucer's, 5-7 ; Latin, 10 ; Shak- 
speare's, 12, 13, 17-22 ; Milton's, 26, 29, 30 ; 
Addison's, 38-42 ; Gray's, 48 ; Goldsmith's, 
55, 58, 59; Cowper's, 61-65 ; Pope's, 61,62 ; 
Wordsworth's, Tennyson's, 62 ; Hannah 
More's, 66 ; Scott's, 75-77 ; Southey's, 79, So ; 
Coleridge's, 84 ; Campbell's, 87-91 ; Mrs. 
Jameson on the poets, 93 ; Hood's poetry, 
99-102 ; Burns's, m-115; Ferguson's, 113; 
Longfellow's, 125-131 ; Hogarth's, 160; 
Raleigh's, 185 ; tribute to Sir John Frank- 
lin, 1 93-195 ; Shirley quoted, 218 ; Ken's 
and Lord Houghton's poetry, 226 ; Heber's, 
227, 232 ; Garrison's, 259, 260 ; Whittier s, 
264 ; Punch's tribute to Selwyn, 295 ; an- 
other tribute, 29S ; Whittier's tribute to 
Havelock, 308 ; Ben. Franklin's poetry, 342 ; 
Sidney's Arcadia, 351-353 ; Jonson's epitaph 
on Sidney's sister, 352 ; Harrington's poetry, 
Barclay's, Italian compared with Sidney's, 
353 ; James I. on Sidney, 355 ; Humboldt's 
quotaticns, 395 ; Addison on Blenheim and 
the storm-spirit, 398 ; Redcliffe on life-boats, 
426; Miller's poetry, 455. 

Poland : Campbell's interest, 91 ; crown offered 
to Sidney, 354. 

Pope, Alexander: allusion, 41; translations 
from Greek, 61 ; influence over Burns, 112. 

Popularity: Addison's, 38, 41; of Paradise 
Lost, 49; Dickens's, no; Burns's, m-113; 
Longfellow's, 125, 126; Pitt's, 249-251; 
Lancaster's, 284 ; Grace Darling's, 303, 304 ; 
Miller's, 457. (See other Essays for similar 
instances.) 

Portugal : Buchanan there, 10; in Shakspeare's 
day, 15; Southey's travels, 79; art of print- 
ing, 138 ; residence and proposal of Colum- 
bus, 176, 177, 179; Howard's voyage, 209; 
brilliant age, 351 ; Sidney's aid solicited, 
354- 

Postage : Burntt's advocacy of cheap ocean, 
283, 2S4 ; reform in England, 441-447. (See 
Rowland Hill.) 

Pottery. (See Wedgwood.) 

Poverty : Johnson's sympathy, 45, 46 ; Dickens's 
sympathy and experience. 105, no; Whit- 
bread's reform of poor-laws, 247, 248 ; Garri- 
son's position, 256, 261 ; Lincoln's, 269, 270 ; 
Maurice's aid, 291-294; George Moore's con- 
dition, 310, 311 ; Irish, 317, 318; Ben. Frank- 
lin's condition, 340 ; Linnaeus's, 387 ; Ark- 
wright's, 401,402; Miller's, 452; Howe':;, 47S. 

Preaching : Bunyan's, 31 ; Burnet's, 35, 36. 
(See Faraday, Heber, Ken, Penn.) 



Printing: introduction, 14; art, 137-139; 
Caxton's connection, 139-142; Garrison's, 
257-265; Ben. Franklin's, 339-343, 345; 
the Stephenses', 351; Edison's, 4'6-46S; 
American inventions, 4S0; the preservative 
art, 492. 

Prisons: Howard's reform, 209-211 ; Mrs. 
Fry's, 219-221. 

Protestantism : Buchanan's devotion, S-i 1 ; 
Milton's, 25-30 ; Burnet's influence, 36, 37 ; 
Flaxman's art-service, 16S ; Whi thread s 
sturdiness, 24S ; Sidney at Paris massacre, 
351 ; embassies in reference to, 352 ; Hamp- 
den's aid, 356-360 ; Russell's, 361-366. (See 
Catholic Church, English Church, Religion.) 

Puritanism : in time of Charles I., 355 ; in Con- 
necticut, 359 ; unfriendly to Harvey, 3S0. 
(See Grace Darling. ) 

Q- 

Quakers: Mrs. Fry's family, 219; Penn's 
adherence, 234-240 ; antislavery, 25S ; Lan- 
caster's membership, 279 ; a Temperance 

pioneer, 315. 

R. 

Railways: English, 459; Edison's boyhood, 
466, 467. (See George Stephenson. ) 

Raleigh, Sir Walter : allusion, 16 ; royal ingrati- 
tude, 1S2 ; in the Tower, service to England, 
1 S3 ; Spanish Armada defeated, early ad- 
ventures, 184; execution, 1S5 ; compared 
with Garrison, 258 ; age, 350; ship-money, 
357 ; discovery of tobacco, 384. 

Reformation: in Scotland and France, 9-1 1, 
15; England, Switzerland, Germany, 14; 
Burnet en, 36, ^7 ; Sir Thomas More's con- 
nection, 340; Sidney's influence, 354. (See 
Religion, Catholic Church, etc.) 

Religion : Bunyan's, 30, 31 ; Addison's, 41-43 ; 
Johnson's, 43, 44, 46; Cowper's, 63, 64; 
Hannah More's, 67, 69; Southey's, 78; 
Mrs. Jameson on art, 96-98 ; Hood's religion, 
101 ; Hawthorne's, 121 ; Longfellow's, 127, 
129; Flaxman's, 168-170; Raleigh's, 1S5 ; 
Livingstone's, 201-206; Mrs. Fry's, 219-221 ; 
liberty in England, 222-226; Bishop Ken's, 
222-226 ; Heber's, 227-232 ; Penn's, 234- 
240; Whitbread's, 24S-250; Wilberforce's, 
252-255 ; Bell's, 275-279 ; Lancaster's, 2S1- 
2S6 ; Burritt's, 2S8, 2S9 ; Maurice's, 290- 
294; Selwyn's, 295-298; of the Darling 
family, 300-304 ; Havelock's, 305-309 ; 
Moore's safeguard, 314, 315 ; Father Ma'thew's 
religion, 315-319; Roger Bacon's, 329-333 ; 
Locke's, 335-339; Sir Thomas More's, 347, 
349, 350 ; Sidney's, 354, 355 ; liberty in reign 
of Charles I., 356-360; Hampden's, 360; 
Russell's, 362-366 : VVashington's, 374 ; Lin- 
nseus's lack of interest, 382, 3S4 ; Faraday's, 
435, 436; Brewster's, 457-440; geological 



INDEX. 



517 



conflict, 449, 450; Miller's, 452-457: Mc- 
Comiick's generosity to Presbyterian institu- 
tions, 487. (See Catholic Church, English 
Church, etc.) 

Reynolds, Sir Joshua : friendship with Hannah 
More, 67; classicality, 157; advice to Flax- 
man, 168. 

Roads, Wedgwood's improvements, 163. 

Romilly, Sir Samuel: talents, education, birth- 
place, 241 ; travels, law-practice, 242 , politi- 
cal life, 243 ; reform of capital punishment, 
244 : changes in criminal law, suicide, 245 : 
son, abilities, character, 246 ; tribute to Wil- 
berforce, 254. 

Russell, Lord William: heroism no monopoly, 
political progress, 361 ; ancestry, opposition 
to Catholicism, accusation, 362 ; trial, 363 : 
Lady Russell, condemnation, 364 ; scaffold, 
wifely devotion, death, 365 ; Fox's tribute, 
love of liberty, 366. 

Russia: printing, 13S: prisons, 211; Heber's 
travels, 22S ; Humboldt's visit, 395 ; domi- 
nance, 404 ; award to Greathead, 425. 



Saint Paul's Church: Wren's woik. 144- 
14S ; Flaxman's monuments, 170 ; Sidney's 
burial, 355. 

Science: Wren's contributions, 143, 144 ; Cap- 
tain Cook's services, 1S7. iSS; Newton's, 
323-327 ; Roger Bacon's, 32S-333 ; Ben. 
Franklin's, 340, 343; Harvey's, 377-381: 
before the Restoration, 379 : contributions of 
Linnseus, 3S1-3S9; Humboldt, 390-396; 
lighthouses, 397-400 ; Arkwright's contribu- 
tions, 401-404; Whitney's, 404-40S; Watt's, 
408-411 ; Fulton's, 412-416 ; Stephenson's, 
416-421 ; life-boats, 421-425 ; Davy's service, 
427-430 ; Faraday's, 430-436 ; Brewster's, 
437-440 ; Hill's, 442, 443 ; Lyell's, 447~45 2 ■ 
Miller's, 452-457; Wheatstone's, 458-462; 
Morse's, 462-465 ; Edison's, 466-475 : 
Howe's, 475-479 ; McCormick's, 4S0-4S9 ; 
Daguerre's, 4S9-493 ; Morton's, 493-501 ; A. 
G. Bell's, 501-506. (See various subordinate 
heads, such as Botany.) 

Scotland : Buchanan's birthplace, S ; Reforma- 
tion, 9-1 1 ; Burnet's residence, 34; works 
on, 35, 36; Oxford sneers, 50, 51; Gold- 
smith's visit, 57; Miss Edgeworth's, 70; 
Scott's attachment, yj ; Campbell's native 
land, S7-92 ; effect of American Revolution, 
88; Burns's patriotism and residence, m- 
115; Mrs. Stowe's visit, 133, 134; Living- 
stone's patriotism, 201-203 ; her Murray, and 
slavery, 254; Andrew Bell's nativity, 275, 
280 ; Highlanders under Havelock, 307, 308 ; 
Father Mathew's Temperance work, 31S ; 
Watt's residence, 40S, 409 ; Miller's service 
to religion, 456, 457 ; McCormick's ancestry, 
482; A. G Bell's residence, 505. (See 
Edinburgh, England, etc. ) 



Scott, Sir Walter : compared with Miss Edge- 
worth, 74 ; birthplace, family, education, 
offices, poems, 75 ; novels, business, honor, 
76 ; travels, death, purity, 77 ; friendship 
for Southey, So ; compared with Dickens 
104; Hawthorne's model, 117; estimate of 
Watt. 411 ; Brewster's letters, 439. 

Sculpture. (See Flaxman.) 

Selwyn, George Augustus : Punch's tribute, edu- 
cate n, 295 : curacy, bishopric, voyage, 296 ; 
work in New Zealand, return to England, 
297 ; Bishop of Lichfield, Temperance, 
Gladstone's tribute, 298. 

Seward, William H. : association with Lincoln, 

273 : opinion of McCormick's reaper, 4S1. 
Shaftesbury, Lord : on Burnet, 37 ; relations to 

Locke, 335, 33S. 

Shakspeare, William : allusion, 6 ; memorials, 
restorations, 12; birthplace, 13; influences 
of the age, 14-16 ; literature, the drama, 17 ; 
parentage, childhood, iS ; schooling, appren- 
ticeship, 19 ; love of nature, 20 ; life in Lon- 
don, 21, 22 ; genius, 23 ; friends, last days, 24 ; 
improved by Tate, 48 ; ignorance about, 49 ; 
Southey's study, 7S ; Mrs. Jameson's illus- 
trations, 94 ; Burns the Shakspeare of his day, 
113 ;. influence over Lincoln, 271 ; age, 350. 

Shenstone, William : compared with Lamb, Sy ; 
influence over Burns, 112. 

Ships: of Columbus, 176— 1S1 ; Raleigh and 
others, 1S2-1S5 : Captain Cook, 185-189; 
Franklin and others, 189-195 ; in the Ameri- 
can Civil War, 273 ; Selwyn's, 297 ; wrecks 
on English coast, 299-303 ; Havelock's 
troop-ships, 305; ship-money, 357, 358; 
Eddystone wrecks, 396 ; steam navigation, 
412-416; life-boats, 421-426; Morse's voy- 
ages, 462. 

Sidney, Algernon, martyrdom, 362, 365, 366. 

Sidney, Sir Philip : birthplace, brilliancy of the 
age, 350; education, travels, return, 351; 
embassies, authorship, 352 ; Arcadia com- 
pared with the works of others, further pro- 
ductions, 353; knightly virtues, marriage, 
Polish crown, Zutphen, 354 ; unselfishness 
on the battlefield, death, 355. 

Slavery: Mrs. Stowe's part in its abolition, 
131-137 ; Wesley's, 252 ; Wilberforce's, 252- 
255 ; Garrison's, 255-266 ; Lincoln's eman- 
cipation, and the system in America, 267- 

274 ; Lancaster's zeal for the slave, 281 ; 
Burritt's abolition principles, 2SS ; connection 
with cotton, 405-407. (See America, etc.) 

Smeaton, John : Eddystone rocks, 396 ; Win- 
stanley's structure, 397; Captain Lovett's, 
398 ; conflagration, appointment of Smeaton, 
preparations, 399 ; criticism, work com- 
pleted, 400 ; service to humanity, 401. 

Smith, Adam : works, 49 ; birthplace, educa- 
tion, 50; tutorship, criticism, 51 ; prejudices, 
lectures, 52 ; offices, death, characteristics, 
53 ; Wealth of Nations, 54. 

Smith, Sydney : opposition to Lancaster's sys- 
tem, 279 ; friend of Selwyn, 296. 



5 i8 



INDEX. 



Smollett, Tobias George : novels, 74 ; compared 
with Dickens, 104 ; with Burns, 113. 

South America : Raleigh's voyage, 1S3 ; Hum- 
boldt's explorations, 393, 394. 

Southey, Robert : opinion of Bunyan, 30, 31 ; 
birthplace, family, education, 78 ; lectures, 
marriage, travels, literary life, 79 ; essays, 
home life, poet-laureate, death, So ; qualities, 
81 ; association with Lamb, 81, 83 ; socialistic 
ideas, 121 ; biography of Andrew Bell, 27S, 
279. 

Spain : in Shakspeare's day, 15 ; art of printing, 
13S ; connection with Columbus, 177-1S1 ; 
Armada defeated, 183, 1S4; generosity to 
Boone, 200; brilliant age, 351 ; revolt of 
Netherlands, 354, 355 ; Armada, 357 ; honors 
to Linnaeus, 3S9 ; visit of Humboldt, 393 ; 
Stephenson's travels, 419 

Spenser, Edmund: quoted, 7; allusion, 17; 
reference to Shakspeare, 24 : Southey's study, 
78 ; age, 350 ; compared with Sidney, 35 3. 

Steam : monopoly, 327 ; Watt's inventions, 
409-411; Fulton's, 412-416; Stephenson's, 
416-421 ; American, 4S0. 

Steele, Richard : compared with Lamb, S7 ; 
quotation, 147. 

Stephenson, George : compared with Ark- 
wright, 403 ; birthplace, parentage, ]im*ted 
education, marriage, 416 ; obstacles, fiist suc- 
cess, 417; one railway established, 41S; im- 
provements, titles rejected, son Robert, 419 ; 
anecdotes, physique, death, 420 ; character, 
descendants, 421 ; safety-lamp, 429. 

Sterne, Laurence : compared with Johnson, 45 ; 
influence over Burns, 1 12, 113. 

Stowe, Harriet Beecher : influenced by Dickens, 
105; antislavery work, 131-137; birthplace, 
parentage, 134 ; marriage, Lane Seminary, 
135 ; Uncle Tom's Cabin, 136 ; other works, 
137 ; allusion, 262. 

Success : what constitutes, 7, 8 ; Shakspeare's, 
24 ; Addison's, 42 ; Wedgwood's, 164 ; An- 
drew Bell's educational experiment, 277; 
Edison's, 469-475; Howe's, 477-479; Mc- 
Cormick's, 4S2-489. (See allusions in other 
Essays.) 

Suicide: Romilly's, 245; Whitbread's, 250; 
Miller's, 457. 

Sweden : Heber's visit, 228 ; home and work of 
Linnams, 381-389. 

Switzerland: Reformation, 14 ; Burnet's travels, 
36 ; Addison's, 40; Romilly's sojourn, 242 ; 
botany, 383: Humboldt's visit, 391, 392; 
Davy's travels, 430 ; Lyell's explorations, 
448. 



T. 



Telegraphy: Wheatstone's services, 458- 
462 ; extent, 460 ; Morse's discoveries, 462- 
465 : Arago's, 460, 463 ; Jackson's, 462 ; Edi- 
son's services, 466-470 ; allusion, 480 ; A. G. 
Bell's discoveries, 501-506. 

Telephone: Edison's discoveries, 466, 471, 



472 ; A. G. Bell's, 500-506 ; Gray's claims, 
504, 505. 

'I emperance : first paper, 258; Burritt's and 
Selwyn's principles, 2i'8; Father Mathew's 
work in Ireland and elsewhere, 315-319; 
Ben. Franklin's ideas, 342, 343. 

Theatre: in Shakspeare's day, 17, 18, 22; 
Goldsmith's success, 59, 60 ; Lamb's efforts, 
84, 85 ; Mrs. Jameson's translations, 95 ; 
Whitbread's connection with Drury Lane, 
250; Lincoln's assassination, 274; Palmer's 
introduction of mail-coaches. 441 ; Daguerre's 
artistic service, 491. (See Handel.) 

Thornhill, Sir James : paintings in St. Paul's, 
146, 147, 149: connection with Hogarth, 159. 

Tracts: Hannah More's, 68; Perm's, 230. 

Travels: Heber's description, 22S ; Humboldt's, 
390-396; Lyell's, 448-451. (See allusions 
to personal travel in almost every Essay.) 

Turkey, prisons, 211. 



u. 



United States : Garrison's work for free- 
dom, 255-266; Slavery, and Lincoln's eman- 
cipation, 267-274 ; Burritt's influence for 
peace, 2S8, 289; George Moore's visit, 312, 
314; Father Mathew's Temperance work, 
31S: Newton's furniture, 327 : Ben. Frank- 
lin's services, 343-345 ; Washington's, 373, 
374; Humboldt's visit, 394; influence of 
cotton-culture, 404-40S ; Grcathead in the 
Revolution, 424; Lyell's visits, 450, 451; 
Morse's telegraphic services, 462-465 : Edi- 
son's scientific advances, 466-475 ; Howe's 
scientific career, 475-479; Civil War, 479; 
value of McCormick's machines, 480-489 ; 
Centennial Exhibition, 501. (See America, 
etc.) 



Victoria. Queen : kindness to Mrs. Fry, 
220, 221 ; patronage of Selwyn, 296; recog- 
nition of Grace Darling, 303. 

Virgil: Flaxman's interest, 166; a modem 
Virgil, 186. (See Latin.) 

Voyages: of Columbus, 175-181 ; Raleigh, 
Drake, and others, 1S2-1S5; Cook, 186-189; 
Sir John Franklin and his rescuers, 189-195. 
(See Fulton, Selwyn, and other Essays.) 



w. 



Washington, George Ben. Franklin second 
to, 340, 341 ; liberator of America, ancestry, 
367 ; property, education, traits, 368 ; train- 
ing, profession, 369; surveyorship, physique, 
370 ; courage, frontier experience, 371 ; topog- 
raphy, early military life, 372; sport, agri- 
culture, public life, marriage, commander-in- 
chief, 373 ; Revolutionary career, 374. 



INDEX. 



519 



Watt, James : Fulton's estimate, 404 ; boyish 
experiments, 40S ; Glasgow influence, pre- 
ceding inventions, 409 ; association with 
Boulton, success, pirated inventions, 410 ; 
new contrivances, old age, 411; problems, 
412; engine-builder, 414. 

Wealth: beneficent use, 8; of Nations, 49, 
54. (See Millionnaires.) 

Wedgwood, Josiah : family, 162 ; start in life, 
success, public spirit, 163; enterprise, 164; 
epitaph, 165 ; art revival, 490. 

Wellington, Duke of : Whitbread's last act, 
250; birth-year, 390. 

West, Benjamin : innovations in painting, 157 ; 

- Penn's Treaty, 239; Morse a pupil, 462. 

West Indies: discover)' by Columbus, 179- 
iSr ; Lancaster's trip, 2S1 ; Humboldt's visit, 
394 ; cotton exports, 405 ; Greathead's voy- 
age, 423. (See America, etc.) 

Westminster Abbey : Chaucer buried there, 3, 
5, 6 ; Milton not buried there, 29 ; Gold- 
smith's monument, 60 ; Campbell's burial- 
place, 91 ; Handel's burial, 156; Flaxman's 
works, 169; Flaxman not buried there, 171 ; 
Livingstone's burial, 201, 204 ; Ken's stall, 
224; Wilberforce's shaft, 254, 255 ; Andrew 
Bell's burial, 279 ; Watt's statue, 411 ; Hill's 
burial, 447 ; Lyell's, 135. 

Wheatstone, Sir Charles: immediate success, 
birthplace, discoveries, professorship, 45 8 ; 
inventions, telegraphy, 459 ; growth of the 
system, controversies over its origin, 460 ; 
dot-and-line alphabet, honors, 461 ; literary 
services, 462 ; allusion, 463. 

Whewell, William : tribute to Newton, 323 ; 
Linnaeus, 389; controversy with Brewster, 

439- 

Whitbread, Samuel: parentage, education, 
public life, 247 ; devotion to humanity, in- 
dividual rights, and toleration, 248 ; plea for 
Catholics, foreign politics, 249 ; impeach- 
ment of Melville, Drury Lane finances, sui- 
cide, private life, 250; oratory, character, 
251. 

Whitney, Eli : allusion, 268 ; cotton-manufac- 
ture, 404; Southern soil, goes to Georgia, 
405 ; Mrs. Greene's aid, cotton-gin models 
stolen by the mob, 406 ; patents, injustice, 
improvements in firearms, 407 ; death, 408 ; 
allusions, 466, 4S1. 

Whittier, John Greenleaf: allusion, 132; trib- 
ute to Garrison, 264, 266 ; tribute to Have- 
lock, 308. 

Wilberforce, William : relation to Cowper, 65 ; 
consecration to freedom, 252; patriotism, 
firstspeech against slavery, 253 ; triumph of 
abolition, death, 254; tomb, son, 255; op- 
posed to negro colonization, 262. 

Wit: Addison's, 41, 42; Miss Edgeworth's, 
70, 74 ; Lamb's, 83, 86 ; Hood's, 99 ; Ben. 
Franklin's, 340 ; Sidney's, 353 ; Stephenson's 
want of appreciation, 420. (See Hogarth, 
and other Essays.) 

Women (under this head are included the 



names of many women only mentioned once 
in the Essays): Chaucer's patroness, 3; 
Maid Marian, 6 ; Buchanan's mother, 8 ; in 
Shakspeare, 13; on the stage, 18; Ann 
Hathaway, 21; Mary Powell, 28; Milton's 
second wife and daughters, 29 ; Elizabeth 
Bunyan's loyalty, 31 ; her blind daughter, 
32 ; Lady Mary Kennedy Burnet, 35 ; Prin- 
cess of Orange, Mary Scott Burnet, 36 ; 
Countess of Warwick, Addison's wife, 41 ; 
Johnson's devotion to Letty, 46 ; Adam 
Smith's mother, 50, 53 ; Goldsmith's, 50 ; 
Cowper's, 62, 63 ; Hannah More's sisters, 
66, 68; Maria Edgeworth's women, 70-73; 
Scott's grief for his wife, 76 ; Southey's 
aunt, Miss Tyler, 78 ; Southey's grief for 
Edith Fricker, and second marriage, 79, 80 ; 
Lamb's mother, 82 ; aunt, 84 ; Mary Lamb, 
83-85 ; Emma Isola, 86 ; Campbell educated 
by his mother, 88 ; Matilda Sinclair, 90 ; 
Miss Campbell, 91 ; Mrs. Jameson's interest 
in women, 92-9S ; Fanny Kemble's descrip- 
tion of Mrs. Jameson, 93 ; Mrs. Jameson's 
mother, 97 ; Hood the poet of poor women, 
100-102; Mrs. Hood, 101 ; Mrs. Radcliffe's 
stories, 104; Mrs. Beecher's, 105; Burns's 
fondness, 114; his wife, 115; Hawthorne's 
mother, 117; Sophia (Peabody) Hawthorne, 
122; Mary S. (Potter) Longfellow, 728; 
Francis Elizabeth (Appleton) Longfellow, 
130; Mrs. Stowe and sisters, 131-137; Ho- 
garth's stolen marriage, 159; Mrs. Mathew's 
influence over Flaxman, 166, 167 ; Ann 
Denman, 168 ; Flaxman's grief at her death, 
170; Queen Isabella's aid to Columbus, 177- 
180; Captain Cook's dame-teacher, 186; his 
mother, 187 ; Sir John Franklin's wives, 
191, 192, 196; Rebecca (Bryan) Boone, 196, 
200; Boone's daughter, 198, 199; Living- 
stone's lament for his wife, 203 ; Howard's 
wives, 210; Mrs. Fry's humane work, 218- 
221 ; Heber's pious comfort to his mother, 
227; Amelia (Shipley) Heber, 228; Penn's 
wives, 237, 240 ; Romiily's grief for his wife, 
245 ; Whitbread's wife, 247, 25c ; daughters, 
251 ; influence of Garrison's mother, 256- 
258 ; his wife, and other women, in the 
Boston mob, 263 ; Lincoln's mother and 
stepmother, 269 ; Mary (Todd) Lincoln, 
271 ; Burritt's mother, 28S ; Grace Darling's 
heroism, 299-304 ; Havelock's mother, 305 ; 
George Moore's mother, 310; sister, 311; 
first love, 312-314; Father Mathew's follow- 
ers, 316 ; Ben. Franklin's wife, 340, 343 ; Sir 
Thomas More's wives, 347, 348 ; daughter, 
349) 35° i literary touch of Sidney's sister, 
35 2 > 353! his wife, 354; Hampden's wife, 
357; Lady Russell's devotion, 364, 365; 
Washington's mother, 368 ; Lady Washing- 
ton, 374 ; generosity of Linnseus's betrothed, 
387; Queen Ulrica's patronage, 388, 389; 
wife of Linnasus, 388 ; death of Humboldt's 
mother, 392 ; Mrs. Williams translates Hum- 
boldt's " Personal Narrative," 394 ; Ark- 



520 



INDEX. 



wright's troubles with his wife, 402-404 ; 
Mrs. Greene's aid to Whitney, 405, 406 ; 
Mrs. Schimmel-Penninck's tribute to Watt, 
411; Fannie (Henderson) Stephenson, 416, 
417; Mrs. Marcet on Chemistry, 432; 
Davy's wife, 430 ; Faraday's, 432-435 ; 
devotion of Hill's mother, 442 ; his wife, I 
443; Lady Lyell, 451 ; Miller's mother, 452, ' 
454; his sisters, 454; wife and daughter, 
455-457; Annie G. Ellsworth, and the first 
telegraphic message, 464, 465 ; Mary (Still- 
well) Edison, 470 ; past condition of work- 



ing-women, 475 ; Mrs. McCormick and 
daughters, 486. (See Queen Elizabeth, and 
other separate heads.) 
Wordsworth, William : Cowper his precur- 
sor, 62 ; association with Lamb, 85. 
Wouldhave, William. (See Greathead.) 
Wren, Sir Christopher: birthplace, family, 
142 ; education, scientific contributions, 143 ; 
great work, 144; travels, completion of the 
church, 145; architecture of St. Paul's, 146; 
the dome, difficulties, old age, 147; death, 
other works, 14S; offices, 149. 



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